Frozen Hearts
by sakume
Summary: Hans begrudgingly returns to his kingdom to take responsibility for his actions. Met with ridicule and hate, and desperate to escape the memory of his haunting past, he takes on a journey to thaw the "frozen heart" he's been accused of, to seek forgiveness from a woman he never really knew, only to find an adventure he could not imagine. -eventual HansxElsa (T to be safe)
1. Prologue

**Extended Summary/Info: A story of redemption, forgiveness, and coming to terms with the past and present, focusing majorly on Hans "of the Southern Isles" Anderson. The first few chapters involve background on Hans and his family, his life and so forth, before we get to the action which begins in chapter four. This story has a good deal of focus on Hans' brothers and Hans himself so if you want more main characters you might want to wait for later chapters.  
**

**It is mostly a Hans/Elsa fic with greater focus on Hans himself. I'm going to lean with a T rating to be safe, though you shouldn't have to worry about most of it. I saw the movie as it premiered and it was excellent. If you haven't seen the movie you probably won't want to read this yet as it will contain spoilers, but otherwise read on! I hope you enjoy! I don't have much idea of where I'm going with it at this point but hopefully it will generate enough interest to keep me wanting to continue. Please leave me a review if you like it, it means the world to me!**

**-Prologue-**

The journey had been long. Too long. Bumping and banging amidst supplies, his stomach churning from seasickness, Hans was all-too-ready to get off the ship and set foot on dry land once more. Hefted from the holding cell build into one of his father's best fleets, he blinked back the glaring brightness of the sun, prodded forward to disembark by two guards he previously had control over.

_So close. I was so close. _

"Move along, scum," one of the two burly guards growled as he shoved Hans the last few steps off the gangplank to sprawl onto the deck.

The sweet smell of summer flowers wafted through the breeze into his nose, familiar to him. _Lilac._ He knew the scent well as it was used by his mother more often than not for her perfumes. Though some small part of him was glad to be in familiar territory, glad to think of those he knew, most of his body quaked from the beckoning shadow of the castle in the latter day, looming ever closer to engulfing him. A gathering of people began to approach, smiles on their faces and bright expressions lighting their eyes, welcoming the youngest prince back from his excursion to the coronation. Perhaps they were hopeful, hopeful he would bring good news, good relations between the two kingdoms, unaware he had done the exact opposite. Apparently the word had not yet reached the Southern Isles of what had occurred in Arendelle, which was no surprise considering the distance between the two lands. It took two weeks alone to sail between the seas and reach Arendelle, and that was with constant fair weather. Therefore, no one yet knew.

He positioned himself with a tall stretch, trying to look as if he still maintained a shred of dignity. His hands moved to smooth down his hair and straighten the outer cuff folds of his suit. Dirty and mangled though it was from the journey, it served a valuable purpose, giving him a place to conceal his handcuffed hands away under the wrist folds of it to hide them from public eye.

"You may look like a prince, but you are a coward," hissed the main guard who'd accompanied Hans to Arendelle, his voice similar to a snake. "And soon all the kingdom will know of your treachery."

Hans ignored the man as much as possible, steadily keeping his gaze on the people before him and greeting those who crowded nearby to get a glimpse of the escorted prince with a regal nod. He may have been under custody of his own country's royal guards, but he would use the art of deception, which he was _oh so good at_, to make it appear as something else. He would make it seem like security, like a typical train of protection for the youngest heir of the Southern Isles. No one would be the wiser.

He let the cool breeze in the midst of the warm sun soothe the ache of his wrists and body, wondering vaguely to himself what the journey might have felt like had the weather been poor, or, in the worst case, if there had been one of the dreaded storms which so often haunted the seas between Arendelle and the Southern Isles. On his journey to the coronation he'd encountered a brief shadow of one such storm and almost lost several members of the crew. He shuddered, glancing up to see the shadow of his parent's castle engulfing him, shutting out the sunlight and leaving him with the cool breeze against his tattered suit.

As he approached the gates, opened wide in what might have been welcome in another time, he settled his gaze on a line of soldiers, one in particular approaching. Taller than Hans by about a foot, he wore a brightly-colored suit of blue with purple trimming, lined in gold buttons. A series of medals dangled proudly from the left corner, just under the collar. The coloring was similar to Hans' own royal suit he'd worn to the coronation, purple and blue being the colors of the Southern Isles, blue for the oceans and purple for royalty. The soldier came to a stop and the two guards escorting Hans on either side saluted smartly.

"Sir," they echoed in perfect unison. Why, it was almost comical how much like clockwork they seemed, Hans mused to himself, unable to keep from smiling.

"At ease." The soldier's hair remained stiff even in the breeze which ruffled Hans' brown locks, probably locked in place by some kind of gel or spray, slicked back and stern as the man's posture. He stared at Hans for a few moments, his expression set firm as stone, unmoving, even his mustache still. Then, his eyes flickered to the handcuffs Hans had been unable to hide. He turned to the soldier at Hans' left. "Soldier, you will tell me why my brother is in custody."

The soldier seemed hesitant, but stepped forward, eyes focusing anywhere but on the man's stern gaze. "Sir, permission to speak privately?"

"Permission granted."

The soldier eased himself over to the commanding officer and leaned in toward his ear, speaking in low tones. Hans could only catch words, not complete phrases, but he heard enough to know what had been said. "Queen… conspiracy… _murder_."

The last word lingered far after the man had spoken it, said through the gaze his brother turned on him, the awe of horror in his slackening face. "Explain this."

Hans remained silent in defiance, gazing at his brother, the captain of the guard, second in command only to his father, the king.

"Explain this!" his brother bellowed, hand moving as if to strike him, but stopping inches away from his face, close enough so Hans could feel his breath, see the wide green of his eyes.

Hans parted his lips just long enough to murmur between grit teeth. "I will _not_."

His brother stared at him for a few moments with disbelief, and then snapped his head to the crowd amassing just behind the open doors. He waved to the guards standing stiffly. "Close the gates!" They quickly moved to obey the order and he turned to face Hans once more. The two siblings stared at each other in silent stand off until the deafening thud of the gates shut out all noise beyond them. "Hans. You will tell me now if this is a joke. I demand you tell me the truth."

Hans snorted through his nose. "Harald…" he regarded his brother with a smirk of defiance, one he'd learned to greet all of his brothers with over the years. It was no use playing dumb anymore, especially when the crowd outside remained shut away from the family matters. "I think you _know_ the truth."

His brother straightened again, exhaling, his head moving to shake from side to side, his hand going to his forehead, then running through his hair, though still not mussing it much. "I don't believe you would do… Hans, do you realize what you've done?"

What a stupid question it was. Hans knew exactly what he'd done. The only thing more irritating than answering was the fact he knew he'd be asked the same question a dozen more times in the next hour or so. Managing to keep a rein on his frustration, he kept a level gaze with Harald, something not many people managed. "I do." Funny how the same words he'd hoped to be saying to achieve his goals were not near the same context he'd hoped to be using them in.

"How could you do… I…"

Hans had never seen this brother at a loss for words. He took some satisfaction in that he'd been the one to accomplish it. Harald straightened and inhaled deeply through his nose.

"We must inform the king and queen of Hans' return. I will follow and announce him personally."

"So formal, Harald." Hans felt the butt of the spears pushing him forward, forcing him into a walk behind his elder sibling, who led the party. He'd never heard his brother refer to the king and queen as anything but the titles, perhaps due to his rigorous training leading up to his command of the army.

His brother did not dignify him with a response if he had heard, leading the party into the castle itself, a magnificent monument to the Southern Isles. It towered over the castle of Arendelle by at least fifty feet, the foundation older, but the additions above newer, flags of the colors flying high in the wind's breeze, shining in the descending sunlight. The castle of Arendelle had not needed much expansion, with two princesses taking rooms within and little cause for visitors, but with thirteen princes, the castle of the Southern Isles had often seen the need to expand, for the constant parties and balls were always an opportunity to show off to other lands. Hans climbed the stairs up with a growing chill running down his back, wondering vaguely if something Princess Anna had said really meant anything. He'd figured out some of the magic of the Frozen Heart and how to heal it because she'd simply told him everything he needed to know. Could she have passed on a curse to him? Given him a frozen heart by just claiming it was so?

He hardly noticed when the stones of the courtyards became smooth, turning to polished marble, then arriving before the golden-trimmed doors, swinging open wide.

His father sat on the throne to the left on his perspective, a taller seat with intricate details of waves and a ship on the very top, the gold embroidery almost too delicate to believe. The Southern Isles were famous for their trade exploits with other lands and the variety of goods they could offer, from fine silks and cloth to exquisite fruits, all thriving thanks to the king's careful overseers. The king was dressed in fine white silk and black leggings, his fur cape draped about his neck. His eyes were firm green, his hair a chestnut color of brown, Harald the spitting image of his father, apart from the facial hair, the king having a full beard and his brother only a thin mustache. Hans had, like many other brothers, inherited the same eyes and brown of hair. However, his facial features, long and thin, always led the people of the kingdom to claim him like his mother.

His queen rested beside her king, wearing a long gown of blue with imprints like an ocean, the seams of waves a lighter blue color and a purple cloak wrapped gently to drape her shoulders, her long red hair in a braid interwoven with jeweled pins to look like lilacs, her favorite flower. Immediately upon seeing Hans she rose from her seat, her feet pattering gracefully down the steps leading up to the thrones, her arms open wide.

"Hans! My son… you're back from the coronation…" She halted as Harald stepped before her, giving a stiff bow.

"My queen." He turned to face his father, giving a second bow. "My king." Addressing them both, he inhaled. "We must speak."

"Hans…" the queen turned her gaze on her youngest son, her face collapsing from joy into puzzlement, her eyes following the tatters of his suit to his cuffed wrists. "What's happened?"

Perhaps the Queen of Arendelle had managed to affect him in some way he could not explain, because in the fragile few moments of innocence he had left, Hans wanted nothing more than to embrace his mother. He wanted to hug her tightly and cling to whatever happiness she had at his return, because he knew that within the next few moments of explanation following, that happiness would never exist in the same way again. And as much as he wanted to be the one to tell her of his wrongs first, he could only listen as Harald relayed the message, cold and calculated as ever, and wish he wasn't standing behind his elder brother, frozen to the spot.


	2. Numb

**Wow, this story has great reception! Thank you all very much for the feedback! The beginning is going to be formed of a lot of explanation and background of the Southern Isles/Family, so I hope you'll all stick with me through it! Still, I've put some thought into developing the family members so I'll hope you'll enjoy! Thank you so much for your reviews, I really appreciate them.  
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**-Chapter One-**

**Numb**

As he stood in silence behind Harald, ironically living up to his name and bringing his parents the all-important news, Hans could do little more than watch and think in silence. His parents were taking the role of their youngest son plotting murder against royalty rather well, actually. They stood as still as statues, listening. At least they weren't pulling the decorative swords from the wall and attacking in a fit of overreaction. Even if he had wanted to say something in his own right regarding the incident, Harald seemed hell-bent on explaining it all himself, likely hoping to add another medal to his already blinding barrage, Hans suspected. His brother spoke in a big, booming voice as if he were telling the entire kingdom, standing at attention the entire time with arms snapped to his sides, the picture of a perfect soldier.

"So far the kingdom of Arendelle has not shown the Southern Isles any ill will in matters of relations between the kingdoms, your highnesses," Harald said with a nod to the king and then the queen. "The Queen Elsa seems open to continued discussions of trade. The lack of response from the department of commerce claims the hesitation has nothing to do with the incident. From what I understand, the kingdom is still recovering from a strange weather pattern which has damaged a portion of their crops and the merchants will be resuming communications shortly."

_A strange weather pattern. _Hans had to smile inwardly at that statement. Was that what Queen Elsa and Princess Anna had decided to tell all the other kingdoms while they figured out what they were going to say, or was that only the rumored word? Eventually the truth would win out, of course. People could hold up blockades and fool others for hours, for days, for even years at a time, but as with all things, there would be a slip, and someone would notice.

As Harald finished his message, silence took hold over the throne room, but Hans heard his heart beating loud enough to make up for all the silence in the world. He kept his gaze down, level on the ground, his posture straight, his face clean as a blank slate, wiped of all emotion. His father was the first to speak.

"… does our kingdom know of this treachery?"

_Treachery_.

Mother had always told him words could never hurt. It had seemed important advice to remember at the time, with twelve older brothers, many of which constantly calling him every name popping into their minds. As much as it pained him to admit, Mother had been wrong. She'd been wrong about many things, but this in particular struck Hans in the heat of the moment. The word spoken by his father stung as fiercely as the cold of Elsa's winter.

_Don't think on it. _

Hans tensed his body only slightly, shutting out the word and all the feeling associated with it. _Scum. Villain. Murderer. _Let them call him what they liked.

"No, your highness. None of the citizens are aware of the events that occurred. The guards have been sworn to secrecy on their honor."

"Good," replied the king, his head bobbing down in a simple nod. It had always fascinated Hans how his father managed to look so majestic doing the simplest things. He'd spent time as a child just watching the man interact among his people. Now he found himself feeling like that little boy again, facing his father as fully vulnerable as he had been then. The king extended a hand. "Harald, give me the keys to your brother's handcuffs." Obeying, Harald stepped forward and dropped the ring with an exaggerated clink into his father's hand, flashing Hans a sickening smirk of satisfaction with his back turned to his parents as he returned. The king dismissed him with a gentle wave. "That will be all, Harald. You may wait outside until I call you to return. I want to speak to my son alone."

The soldiers escorting Hans did not need to be told twice when they saw the look on Harald's face. They scattered without word, nearly tripping over each other to get out of the way, exiting. Harald himself waited a moment longer, disappointment apparent in his silence, and then bowed deeply, pausing just long enough to stare at Hans with a glower powerful enough to darken the room, the doors slamming shut behind him.

_Love is an open door… _

Hans glanced behind at the gold-embroidered doors shut tight, and then back at his parents, who both rose before him. He swallowed, his knees begging to tremble. His mother he knew would not be the one to act first, but that was fine, because he feared her as much as he feared a lamb. His father, however, was an enigma to him, a puzzle he could not solve. He had no idea what the man could be capable of when faced with something like this. When neither of his parents spoke, Hans cleared his throat, straightened his posture, and sighed through his nose. This confrontation would be like a game of chess with invisible pieces. No matter where the pieces moved, he would be unable to counter because he didn't know where his opponent planned to go or what they wanted to hear. He would start the game politely, gracefully.

"… I'm back."

"Oh, Hans…" his mother gasped, bringing both hands to her mouth as if to stifle something rising in her throat. He could see her eyes moisten even with the distance between them, and a part of his gut hated him for it.

"Hans. Come before me." The king's green eyes gazed at his son, as strong and sharp as flint. It was not a request. He obeyed, stepping forward, respectful of his father, head tilted just slightly downward in a sign of this reverence. "Is it true?"

It had been one thing to act callous around his older brother Harald, who he harbored a natural dislike for, but when faced before his father, one of the only people he'd ever really respected or felt love towards, he could not keep a tightening in his chest from stealing his breath. He swallowed, trying to think of what to say. It could be the last time he ever spoke to his father, or anyone, if the sentence were as serious as it could be.

"Is it true?" his father repeated, unlike Harald's accusations earlier, the words calm, but stolid.

Hans took a breath and forced the words out as emotionless as possible. "Yes, it is true."

"Hans! No… no, not my Hans… not my baby! No!"

Although Hans had predicted his mother to act this way, he did not deny her as she came floating down the steps and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. She did not mind the dirt staining his clothing, nor the smell of his own body gone unwashed for two weeks in the cargo hold. She simply held him, generating a warmth he could not explain.

_"The only frozen heart around here is yours." _

The warmth sank into him, deeper than a fire, deeper than the sun or any clothing insulating him. _An act of true love melts a frozen heart. Do I truly have a frozen heart? Do I have a heart at all? _"Mother."

She leaned in and kissed his cheek tenderly, bringing with her embrace both a comfort of knowing he was still loved and a sinking feeling of guilt tugging his heartstrings too hard for comfort. "Hans… my baby…"

"Mother, _please_," Hans murmured, soft enough for her to see through his plea, to know he did not truly mind the affection.

"Allowyn."

The queen turned to face her husband, her arms still clinging to Hans, wrapped about his neck. She met his gaze and her hands slipped down to Han's collar, which she gently smoothed, then cupped his cheek, thumbing it. Her smile ever present, but eyes burdened in heaviness, she let her hand slip away and backed up, her hands cupping in front of her and hanging at her waist.

His wife now at rest for the moment, the king switched his attention to his youngest son. Hans blinked and stiffened his posture.

"Hans…" The king's face slackened in a moment of sorrow so rare it could hardly be described. His years seemed to pile on with creases in his forehead, his hand going to knead his forehead as if to rub them away. He walked away from his son, towards one of many windows lining his throne room, looking over the kingdom on the left side, and the famous harbor on the right, where ships almost constantly came and went as the sun. He came to a stop on the left, his dark blue cape not dragging behind him, but almost drifting as if made of liquid. "What am I to do?" There was no response for the king, no answer from his queen or his son. "The laws for the crime of murder are clear…"

"No, George," his wife gasped, bringing her hands to her mouth in shock. "How could you even think such a thing?"

"Allowyn…"

"No! I will not see my son walk to the gallows, I will not!" As if protecting the very thought, she crossed in front of Hans. "I would rather take his place before I ever see the day!"

_Mother… you would defend me if I'd murdered one hundred people… _Though he was touched by his mother's actions, he knew pleas would not protect him when it came to his father's decision. He took a breath and used the momentum to make his voice louder, to make himself heard. "Father."

The king looked to his son, one hand resting upon the windowsill, only half-turned to face him, some of his face hidden in the shadow as the daylight faded.

Hans knew it was always best to be honest with his father, although the same was not true with all people. He'd lied to many people in the past, but he could not stomach the idea of lying now, especially not to the only people who'd shown him kindness the past two weeks. On board the ship he'd been treated hardly any better than the livestock in the cargo hold, but he dared not complain for fear of worse. "I will take whatever punishment you give me. I've… brought disgrace upon the family name, I know. I cannot explain or atone for my actions."

The king watched his son from the shadows, lifting a hand to his chin and brushing his beard thoughtfully.

"I will do as you ask, all you have… is to ask it of me." Hans could not think of more to add to his speech, nor could he think of what awaited him in the future. He lifted his hands to stare at the handcuffs, imagining what his return would be like if he had not acted on his plan. He would be welcomed back with open arms, and there would probably be a feast in his honor.

If only he had never tried to take over the kingdom so quickly, if only he had gone with the original plan and wooed the now-Queen Elsa slowly, over time, he would have married into the throne and been done with this all. But he had found the younger princess Anna so quickly, and discovered, to his surprise… he had _enjoyed_ his time with her, from the first time she'd bumped into him. His affections may have been exaggerated, and the proposal was fake of course, but when they'd spent those hours together that night, the time had felt like weeks, wonderful weeks all snatched away from him when he'd said those words to her.

_If only someone loved you. _

How could he have said something like that? The more he thought on it, the more he wondered if he'd had a nightmare about the whole thing. No… the handcuffs were tight, and his wrists were raw. He wanted to think more on it, but his father began speaking, leaving Hans to stop the train of thought with one last thought: _Why_.

Why had he enjoyed his time with the Princess Anna so much? Why had it seemed so much longer, and his smile had seemed so natural… why had it all felt so… _real_?

"My old eyes could never have seen the day when I would be witness to my son before me like this... the Southern Isles need the trade opportunities only available with neighboring countries in order to prosper, and my youngest son's actions have seen that our countries' very livelihood may be at stake." The king walked back to his throne, collapsing in it and giving a long sigh as he kneaded the bridge of his nose, his words firm and powerful, though softly spoken, clearly a father's words to his son under the guise of royalty. "Until I decide what the punishment for such actions must be, the Prince Hans is confined to the castle. We will close the gates as I deliberate. There is to be no contact with the citizens of the Southern Isles, audience or otherwise. We cannot risk the consequences of the people knowing before the judgment is handed."

Hans nodded dumbly, struck into silence more so by the sheer regality of his father than the words themselves, which he only partially digested. Confinement to the castle would mean little to him, as he spent most of his time within the gates as it was. The fact that his father postponed the judgment meant a better outcome than he had expected, but Hans suspected it had to do with his reputation. He'd never been known to cause trouble or make waves in the kingdom focusing on foreign travels, but something of this magnitude would certainly give his father second thought. He slowly bent on one knee, supporting his wrists while managing to look regal. He opened his mouth to speak, but had hardly begun when the throne doors flew open with a bang.

"Is it true?"

Hans blinked and turned around, stunned, his mouth still hanging open from his last word he'd never gotten out.

A young man, clean-shaven with long straight brown hair tied neatly back in a ponytail stepped forward in a hurry, his black boots squeaking on the marble floor, both polished to a reflective shine. The tailcoat of his suit flailed out behind him, an olive green color with golden highlights along the outside of it. His gloved hands extended towards Hans in a wide manner that implied embrace. Suddenly, the boots skidded to a stop and his gloved hands flew to his mouth, his face aghast, sparkling green eyes widening in shock.

"It _is _true!"

The king looked to his wife with a sidelong look of half-amusement, half-understanding, clearing his throat. "Heins."

"My suit! Look at my fabulous suit! What have you done to it, Hans?" The man immediately swooped in on Hans and began inspecting the tatters, getting down on his knees, pursing his lips as he moved from one tear or rumple to the next. "Do you have any idea how long it took me to design this piece?"

"Heins," the king repeated.

"The material alone, Hans, the material _alone_ took me weeks to gather, and we're not even _talking_ about the sewing … and don't even get me _started_ on the embroidery or the fitting- which you never stood still for, naughty you, and-"

"Heins!" the king boomed, fists at his side, forehead crinkled.

"Yes?" the young man replied, seeming to notice the king for the first time. His face resembled a cherub, smiling, innocent, and bright with energy and cheerfulness, clearing away any spots of age there might have been and making him look younger than he was, as if he were just on the cusp of twenty, when it reality the age had already been passed several years ago.

"Now is not really a good time, son…" Hans noted a twinkle in his father's eye and a quirk of a smile on his lips.

"Why not?" Heins asked with an innocent blink. His gaze shifted to his mother and he dropped the tasseled piece of Hans' shoulder, his voice falling to a rather loud whisper, his hand cupping his mouth so it did not face his father. "Did I interrupt something?"

Allowyn smiled lovingly, giving her husband an understanding look, which seemed to soothe any frayed nerves in the room, and pinching two fingers together. "Just a _little_, Heins."

"Oh… sorry! Pretend I was never here…" He slowly backed up, his boots squeaking with each step against the marble floor, coming to a stop and posing comically like one of the decorative suits of armor lining the wall, straight and tall, hands behind his back.

"Heins," the king said, sharing his wife's smile, "you're still here."

"You mean I can't even eavesdrop? Gee whiz, you're absolutely no fun at all, father!" Heins said, crossing his arms. "_Everyone_ is already talking about it! The mysterious arrival of the thirteenth son back from the coronation, silently herded into the castle without a word! Isn't it enough to give you _chills_?" He waved his fingers menacingly as he neared Hans, and then crossed his arms again with an added pout. "And he comes back looking like something the dogs dragged in! After I put all that work into the suit! He can't even bother to wave and smile and linger long enough for anyone to soak it in!"

_Well, it's not like I was about to reveal what I did to everyone present the instant I got off the boat! _Hans frowned, eyebrows furrowing, wondering what the people would say when they found out the truth.

Heins did a double-take of his brother's gaze and his face softened, taking on a smile. "Hey… don't let it worry you so much, little brother… I'm not angry. A little elbow grease and some new fabric and I'll have you looking fabulous again in no time!"

Hans felt his apprehension lift as Heins squeezed his shoulder, helping him up to his feet. He'd spoken to Princess Anna with a tone implying he disliked most of his brothers, and that was true, but _most_ did not mean _all. _ Heins was one of a few people who had never fallen once from his favor, and, though Hans wouldn't have said so out loud, was without question his favorite brother of them all.

Somewhere between the youngest brother and the middle aged, Heins acted more often like the youngest simply because of his charming naivety. Many of the brothers had chosen an occupation either providing a significant boost in testosterone, becoming soldiers, like Harald, or a job like financial officers, able to brag to those high in stature. When asked one day as a child what he wanted to take over in his father's kingdom, a cheerful Heins had thought, finger in mouth, then responded brightly, "fashin cordinater!"

Everyone had laughed, of course, for what little boy would grow up with an interest in designing clothing for a living? But as time passed and years performed their ever-moving dance, Heins' interest in the fashions and designs of the kingdoms only grew, and with it, his talents. Soon he began showing the royal seamstresses better ways to show the gowns off at the waist for the women, and ways to make men look taller and slimmer by changing the coloring of the outer ridges of suits. He exceeded their skills and began designing not only clothing for his brothers, but for his own parents. The Southern Isles began to be known for its magnificent ball gowns and extravagant suits, including a range of wearable fashions affordable to the common man. It had been rumored for many years a true piece of clothing designed by Heins bore a special mark to designate it as such, but try as they might, no one could specify what the mark was.

Heins had never left his profession, and had taken the time to design a special suit for Hans to wear to the coronation, the same suit which was now water-damaged, smelly, and stained impossibly well with a multitude of dark colors. Hans sighed softly with a vague smile toward his brother's quick forgiveness. It felt so very _good_, even if it were for such a small detail. "Thank you, Heins."

"Of course! I always love a challenge! And this sure looks like one!" Patting Hans on the shoulder, he seemed to notice the metal surrounding his brother's wrists for the first time. "Why are you in handcuffs?"

Hans paused, unsure of what to say. Before he could speak, his father came down the steps. "It's not important. Why don't you help Hans back to his room? I'm sure he wants to get settled after the long trip back." Hans gave his father a searching look, trying to imagine what he might be thinking, but came up short. His father gazed into his eyes with a sense of disappointment and hurt, but there was love there, too… love that could almost be felt as his wrists were freed. Hans stifled a grunt of pain which came as a gasp, the metal leaving behind ugly marks of strained, bleeding and crusted flesh, darkened from pressure bruises. The king's lips parted, showing a glimpse of white teeth. "… Heins, before you help Hans back to his room, please visit the castle doctor. Have her help him with his wound."

"Yes, father!" Heins chirped, putting an arm around Hans' shoulder.

"Don't worry, Hans, we'll talk later, I promise you, we will," his mother ensured, pain fresh in her voice, choking it, probably from seeing her son's gnarled wrists. The handcuffs had remained on since he'd left Arendelle, and would be sore for some time after the doctor's help.

Hans nodded, turning with Heins, his perception of reality at battle with the belief it was all a dream, replaying the events in his head like a never-ending carousel. He allowed his brother to lead him gently out of the throne room, past the people waiting outside, never making eye contact, his gaze perpetually set on the emptiness before him.

"Harald!"

Expecting congratulation or an articulate stream of compliments from his father on a job well done, Harald strode into the throne room and saluted, pride swelling in his chest. "Yes, your highness?"

"The men who escorted Hans from the land of Arendelle in custody, are they here?"

Harald blinked back stunned surprise, vaguely nodding. They were just outside the throne room. "Yes, sir?"

The king took a seat in his throne, reaching a hand over to give his fretted wife a gentle stroke over her daintier one. He met her eyes and ever so slightly nodded, removing his hand and straightening, his eyes hardening and his jaw tightening with protective force only a parent would feel. "Bring them inside and leave me with them alone."

Harald nodded dumbly, struck by his father's sudden sharp edge in his voice. The two guards who'd attended to Hans, in the loosest of terms, were led back into the throne room, where they stood side by side.

"You were the soldiers who escorted Prince Hans back from the coronation?" The taller one looked to his partner, and then returned his gaze to the king.

"Y-yes, your highness."

"Then you will tell me, in exquisite detail, why you saw the need to treat him as you did."

The soldiers exchanged looks with one another and swallowed, the sound mute under the thud of the throne room doors closing.


	3. What Brothers Do

**A/N: What happened to everybody? I hope the development in the beginning didn't throw you off that much! If any of you are worried about the lack of familiar faces, don't be! We'll get to the characters we know in good time, I promise. In the mean time, enjoy more of my OC bros!**

**Thank you so much for all the feedback you've given me so far and for all those who are following, it's encouraged me to continue. … Also, I love Heins. Can I keep him forever? I'm wondering if it was such a good idea to name the brothers all with H. xD Hope you can keep track of them, although some will be mentioned more than others. I'm more amazed I was able to assign them all such specifics, twelve characters. Please R and R! **

**-Chapter Two-**

**What Brothers Do**

"Will he be alright?" Heins asked, his forehead crumpling in worry lines, leaning forward to watch the castle doctor perform her duties, nursing Hans' wounded wrists.

Now that the old blood from the wounds had been cleaned sufficiently, and the bruised wrists lightly bandaged in soft, white gauze strips, the doctor felt satisfied with her work. She nodded to Heins, the ever-invasive one with concern shining in his eyes like the living green of the forest. She'd always been amazed at how his eyes could shine like that. She gave the bandages a final snip to cut off the excess and smoothed over to make the lining seamless, opening her bag and replacing her tools inside, most of them unneeded in the simple patch-up case. It never hurt to be prepared, her practice taught her, but the damage in this case was minor. Her lips pursed as she eyed the young man's wrists, holding back her questions. It would be improper to pry. She was more worried about his attitude than his physical health. This man was not the Hans she remembered treating as a boy, or even a young man. Something which had occurred in Arendelle had taken a profound effect on him, and not for the better.

"Are you sure?" Heins asked, following after her departure from his brother's side, still inside the spare room used for doctoring.

The doctor peered back behind her and gazed upon the youngest of the Southern Isle princes with thought permeating her brow. She lowered her voice out of respect, although by the looks of the empty gaze the prince wore, she doubted Hans could hear anything beyond his own thoughts. "Heins, what your brother really needs right now is not healing of his flesh wounds. He needs a deeper healing. Something has struck his very soul. I trust if anyone can help him heal what truly needs to be healed, I believe you can."

Heins paused for a moment, then spoke back in the same low tone, innocence lining his voice like a child's. "How does one heal a soul, doctor Helen?"

"I will leave that to you," responded the doctor with a gentle smile, going to her desk to reconsider her tool choices. Apart from being the castle doctor of people, Helen Hunter also held the royal veterinarian privileges, looking over the king's royal steeds, dogs, and livestock as needed. Hans had not been treated accordingly by the soldiers. It would be wise to look over his steed. "A good start is to try talking to him. Be yourself, and treat him as if normal. Now if you'll excuse me, I must see to Sitron. He has had a long journey and a check-up is in order, especially if they've taken the same care of him as they have your brother."

Heins watched her take her bag and give a small semblance of a polite curtsy as she took her leave. He bowed deeply in response, remained stationary for a moment, and then walked over to his brother, sitting down next to him on the plush bed. "Want to go to your room?" he asked, trying to sense out Hans' emotions. "I'll help you there."

"I don't care," Hans replied, his eyes focused on his hands, or perhaps, his wrists.

The doctor was right. Something had happened in Arendelle, and not for the better. It may not have been very much conversation, but at least his younger brother was speaking to him. It was a start. "Let me help you." Heins hefted his brother to his feet with a supportive hand, wrapping his arm around his shoulders.

Hans withdrew from it with the swiftness as if it were a snake coiling over his back, folding his arms over his chest as if to hug himself, his gaze dark as it peered to the side, away from his older brother. "I can walk."

"Alright." Heins remained by his brother, expression laced in concern, trying to think of what he could say. _Be yourself._ The doctor's advice rang clear in his head and he swallowed, starting up a conversation he hoped would make his brother more receptive. "Sooo… tell me about Arendelle! Was it beautiful? Was the party as good as our parties are? Oh! Tell me about the dresses, the suits, the _clothes_!" he urged, excitement permeating his tone.

Hans looked to his older brother and considered what to say as they walked down the hall, the plush carpet pliable under his scuffed, dirty boots. He had no pent-up anger or bad memories of Heins and he remembered how much his brother had begged to go along for the coronation. God only knows why his father had picked the youngest, out of all the brothers, to attend such an important affair for their relations. Now he'd gone and ruined everything. He wondered if his father was regretting his decisions. "Arendelle was fine."

"The _party_, Hans! Tell me about the _party! Tellll meeee!_" Heins shook his younger brother's shoulders, which caused both of them to laugh. It felt good to hear his youngest brother laugh.

"Okay, okay! Stop shaking me!" Hans batted his older brother away with a hand and thought back to better things, a smile on his lips. "Wellll where do I start… the party was nice, lots of people from everywhere, all kinds of food…"

"Roasted game? Cheese and breads? Wild grape wine?" Heins asked, eyes alight. "Oh, what I would have given to be there! Oh, and the chocolate fondue! Tell me they had chocolate fondue!"

Hans chuckled, nodding. "Yes, even that."

"And the princess? The new queen? Did you meet them, get to talk to them at all?"

Hans' smile remained, but shrank as he replied, "yes. Yes to both."

"I always knew you would get to do something important one day, didn't I tell you all the time? Didn't I? See, and now father chose you specifically for this relation business. It's good, Hans! It's so good… I'm happy for you." Heins squeezed his brother's shoulder again, and this time Hans did not brush it away. They came to a stop before his room, placed on the end of the hall before a window and two armored inanimate soldiers on either side, the door decorated with paintings of seagulls on the outer rims and golden swirls trailing along behind them. Each brother had chosen, probably purposely, to have their own room on a different floor of the castle, apart from the twins, who usually did things together. Hans swung open the door and took a moment of reminiscing. It was only a month ago he had been packing to go on the trip in the first place, and things had been so different then.

He walked inside, the scent of lilacs greeting his nose. Stunned, he turned to see a vase filled on his desk, the flowers a plump purple color, fresh and lovely, with a note underneath them. He picked it up and unfolded the crease, the royal seal on the back evidence it came from his parents. Scanning the note, he felt a strange swirl of guilt and love fill his gut.

_Welcome home- Mother and Father_

"She missed you."

Hans turned towards his brother, who lingered in the doorway. "She talked about you almost every night, wondered how you were doing. You should have seen how much she bragged to the people seeking audiences about how her son was fulfilling important meetings and how much she hoped you'd be happy."

Hans placed the note back down, turning his attention to his bed and taking a seat, running his gloved hands through his hair, only to regret how much they smelled of mildew. He looked up to see Heins standing still in the doorway. "Why are you standing there?"

"You never come in my room without knocking. I do the same for you!" Heins replied, a rare show of respect Hans usually didn't receive from his older brothers.

"Well come in and close the door." Heins obeyed and Hans pried off his boots, marveling at how great it felt to wiggle his toes freely, following up with removing his socks, which had once been white but were obviously worn in, a dusty dull brown on the bottom.

Heins sat in one of two chairs in the room, body facing the back of the chair, arms resting on the spine of it, crossed over one another, pinching his nose playfully. "You should open a window first. I don't know how long Mother's flowers will last under that!"

Hans shot his brother a frown, but listened to reason, sitting up on his bed to open the window directly next to it, one of the best sights in the castle. It led straight out over one of the long, flat portions of roof, and occasionally, when he was younger or needed some privacy, Hans would sneak out to get a good sight of the sunrise or set, depending on the time of day. The time being a little after sunset, all Hans could see was the twinkling lights of the stars, the flickering of the lamps in the streets, and the swish of the lighthouse over the sea. He slipped off his gloves, giving them a haphazard toss on the bed and falling back on it with a deep sigh, the sheets contouring around his figure. It felt so good to take the little pleasures in life as they came, especially after having to confront his parents with such a terrible truth.

"Oh! But I forgot to tell you."

"Forgot to tell me what?" Hans asked, turning his head to face Heins.

"Mother and Father had this big dinner planned in the main hall for your return. It's probably still on! Everyone will be there! Well, all the brothers, anyway. They want to hear about how things went."

"Great," grumbled Hans, sitting up and heading towards his walk-in closet to see what he could change into. "When is it?"

Heins glanced at the clock in the room, a beautiful hand-made piece of machinery outlined in gold metal, with a little ship serving as the hour hand and a lifeboat as the minute, a precious gift Hans had never replaced or taken down even if it had been years since he'd received it as a little boy. "Five minutes." The clock ticked. "Four minutes."

"What? Four minutes? I can't get ready for a big dinner in four minutes!" Hans threw a dinner party suit out of the closet.

Heins dove and caught the clothing before it hit the ground, the chair toppling over in his efforts. "Hey! Don't throw this! This is Equalian silk! Do you know how much a rung of this costs, not including the shipping efforts?"

"Sorry!" Hans came dashing out of the closet with a new pair of boots in hand and some tights, as well as a crisp button-down shirt and an overcoat of a dark blue color outlined in black.

"Ooo, I like it! It's a good color for you! Now all you need to finish is a little bit of color coordination with a pin or a crest…" Heins began rummaging in his brother's top drawer.

"I don't have time to talk about accessorizing right now, Heins! I have to get cleaned and get to the dinner in four minutes!"

"Three minutes, Hans." Heins stood up and smiled, walking outside into the hall. "Don't worry about it! I'll go tell them you're coming, you've just got to unpack first! Just come when you're ready! The regular dining room we have for family dinners, alright?"

"Okay, alright, just go!" Hans grabbed the pile of clothes over his shoulder and bolted from his room, the door swinging shut in his wake, disappearing down the hall barefoot to get washed up.

#

Hans had been outside the door leading to the huge dining room for what he guessed was ten minutes. It felt like forever, as most things do when one doesn't want to do them. Part of him knew this would come, and normally facing his older brothers would have just been annoying, but if they all knew… and there was no way to tell one way or another. He heard their voices and could pick them out if he listened carefully, but he didn't understand what was being said. He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the inevitable, and pulled the door open, making his entrance.

The expanse of the dining table was lined with familiar faces, but very few of them looked interested, and there were a few who did not look up at all. His chair, as typical, was next to the head and oldest of the table, empty, a symbol for the last in line, as they were normally seated according to age. He gave a brief bow meaning nothing more than an upholding of tradition, and took his place.

"Well, well! The prodigal son returns, does he?"

Thwock!

An arrow landed in an apple not an arm's length from Hans, fired by the speaker, who pounded his fist on the table, face alight in glee at his brother's instinctive jump. His goatee of red gleamed in the firelight, the embers crackling merrily, keeping the room a pleasant warm temperature. "Did you see that? What a shot! What a magnificent coil…" The man grinned as he pulled back the trigger of the crossbow. "Truly a great piece of craftsmanship."

"Harken!" The man grimaced at his name. Hans watched the exchange with interest, taking the arrow. No sooner did it arrive over his plate than the apple split in half, landing on his plate. The recoil of the crossbow had been enough to break through the apple entirely. He caught a flash of an uncomfortable smile from Harken, the man in charge of his father's weaponry. Harken always been fascinated with weapons even as a child and so the position had been natural for him, but his obsessions over the weaponry had not. "Put the crossbow down. We don't admire weaponry at dinner. If Father were here you'd be scolded worse." The head of the table picked up a glass of wine at his right, his small brown mustache crinkling as he smiled, dipping towards Hans. "Welcome back to the Southern Isles, little brother. We can finally hold our toast! I propose a toast to our youngest brother, and to his safe journey back!"

"Hear, hear!" Heins exclaimed, lifting his already-empty glass.

"Heins, I told you to wait!" the head of the table exclaimed, frowning. "There's no point in toasting if you have no wine."

"Sorry, but I was thirsty, and it just looked so tempting. "

The older brother sighed, smiling once more. "I'll look over it tonight. To Hans." He downed his drink and gestured with a gloved hand. "Little brother, tell us all about your journey. It's good you didn't run into any storms on the way back. I heard there were a few reports of terrible weather from our trip to the Northern Isles."

Helm, one of the oldest brothers still at home, was named perfectly, as he took the profession of overseeing his father's fleet. Hans judged by the looks on his brethren they didn't know the truth, which both relaxed him and made him nervous. Helm had never been overly cruel to Hans, since he'd often been busy with his own affairs and paid the youngest brother less attention as the years went by, but that was business as normal.

"Where did you hear that?" Hans asked, cutting the apple with a knife, which he thought was ridiculous, but he'd always been scolded if he ate with his hands.

"Hedvil is away on the Northern Isles relations trip," remarked Henning, one of the twins. It was unusual to see them apart, but since they were both relations specialists with the other lands, ambassadors of a sort, such things were bound to happen. Hans could sense a twinge of bitterness from the brother, probably from his being passed over to travel to Arendelle. It wasn't _his_ fault father had chosen him to go when he'd never asked and other brothers had. "He told us of the trouble with the storms in his last letter."

"Did the queen even look at you?" The blunt question came from one of the bluntest of his brothers, Horatio, who was in charge of finances, and therefore, uninterested in everything which didn't make money. His long, thin nose wrinkled as he separated a pea from the rest of the food on his plate.

"Doubtful. Why pay attention to the runt?"

Hans shot Hugo a glower, anger permeating from him. Hugo had been one of the brothers whose sole purpose seemed to be to make Hans miserable. Muscular and lean, he tended to his own affairs privately and spent little time with the other brothers, his attention more centered on the curves of the women living in the kingdom than the curve of learning a business or making a name for himself. If Hans had been more specific with Princess Anna, he'd have told her how much he hated Hugo, for Hugo had come up with the brilliant idea of pretending Hans was invisible and followed through for two years, two other parties joining in being Harken and… odd, where was…

It was at that moment the doors opened again and Harald entered, looking none for the better, his uniform a little rumpled and a sneer curling his lip. He took his place in silence and began to help himself to the food.

"Where have you been?" asked Helm, face studious as he noted his brother's expression.

"I was detained," Harald replied, meeting eyes with Hans, his gaze dark enough to dim the room. Hans had felt anger, even hatred, from his brothers before, but usually not to this degree. Harald certainly knew the truth about Hans' actions, but he must have been sworn to secrecy, because he said nothing. "I had to see to two of my soldiers."

"Did you get in trouble for unnecessary measures again, Harald," Hugo remarked with a chuckle, sipping on his second glass of wine.

"It's not a very good example for the Southern Isles if their own people are disfavorable of the militia," added Henning.

"I was asked before mother and father on a private matter," replied Harald, taking a long drink of his untouched wine.

"No matter," Helm replied, gesturing to Hans, "Hans was just about to tell us about his trip to the coronation. Tell us all about it. Did you meet the Queen… Queen of Arendelle personally?" He didn't know her name, and it was obvious from his insertion of her title last-minute.

"Elsa," corrected Hans, quick enough to stun his older brother. "Her name is Elsa." He felt oddly protective of the absence of her name. Perhaps it was his guilty conscience trying to make remedy of an unforgiveable situation.

"Queen Elsa," Helm added, nodding, remedying his slip.

"Yes, I met her," he replied, shying away from adding much more than that. He could feel Harald's eyes on him, and he hated the sensation.

"Any chance she's looking for a king," remarked Hugo, sipping his third glass and sounding a little slurred. Helm shot him a glare and he shrugged, "just asking."

Hans felt his lips curl into a smile. _Oh, I would love to see you try and woo her, Hugo. _"I doubt it."

"Isn't there a princess of Arendelle as well?" Henning remarked, taking a bite of bread and chewing.

"Princesses are easy," replied Hugo, finishing his wine and grinning, facing his other easy target. "Aren't they, Heins?"

Heins blinked and took on a sullen look. "I'm quite sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I think you do," grinned Hugo, waving his fork in his brother's direction, "Do you know, Hans, that your brother has had not one, but _two_ women asking for audience with him since you've been gone? I don't understand him in the least. Of course, I offered to go in his place, and one accepted, but still, either one would have been an experience, Heins. Live a little. Once you go and get committed to one woman, it's all over."

" Astounding advice," snapped Hans, causing Hugo to switch his attention to him and away from Heins. It was true, Heins had always captured attention of women, but he'd never shown any interest in settling down with one, and when asked and prodded by his parents, he'd simply remarked he was waiting for the right one.

"You can talk little brother, but you had your chance to get something out of the trip, and you come back just as alone as when you left. Oh, but I guess you'll always have Sitron, won't you? The two of you make a perfect couple."

"That's enough," stated Helm, causing Hugo to sigh and lift his hands in surrender. "In any case, Hans, it's good to have you home."

"Hasn't been the same here without you," replied Horatio with a drawl, getting up from the table. "I apologize but I must be off. I've important business to attend to. It seems some of our largest partners in trade are demanding less pay for their goods."

"Of course," replied Helm. "Welcome back, Hans. Good night," he rose and gave a short bow of politeness, exiting out of the rear doors after Horatio, the other brothers following suit without much goodbyes of their own.

Hans rose to his feet and gave a nod to the remaining brothers. He had nothing to say to them, but protocol insisted he manage something. "Goodnight."

"Hans, may I follow you for a moment?" Heins asked, getting up from his chair. "I wanted to ask you something."

"Yes?" replied Hans with a shrug, turning away and exiting the dining hall. His brother followed along beside him, along the halls and down the stairs until he reached his room, pausing outside. "What was it you wanted?"

"_Please_ help me!" His brother looked aghast as he whispered, his tone low and pleading, taking Hans by surprise as Heins ruffled his previously smooth hair with his gloved hands. "These women won't leave me _alone._ I'm supposed to spend the latter part of the next day with the Princess Orion of Allorin. I was thinking if I could… say I was spending part of the day with the youngest prince who'd only just come back from a long trip and needed a day to relax? Sitron will need exercise, and I thought… a little ride out in the countryside? Anything to keep me away from her."

"Don't you _want_ to get out of this castle, out of the Southern Isles?" Hans asked, a puzzle look coming over his face. He'd never understood Heins completely, but he knew that if any women were to pay him the time of day, he'd jump at the chance… as he'd jumped in Arendelle. The trouble was, he'd found out he was jumping into a bottomless pit.

"Of course I want to go eventually," replied Heins, smiling and brushing his hair back down with a few smoothing motions. "But I can't just jump at the offer of a woman who wants to marry me in one day, can I? These princesses who come to ask for my hand, who assume I'm interested… they don't know anything about me. They don't even try…"

Hans glanced over at his brother and his brow furrowed. _What do I know about Anna… about Elsa? _

"They don't even know my last name, can you believe it? It's Anderson! Anderson! They don't know my friends, or my favorite color." He laughed. "What if they don't like the way I eat? What if they don't like how big my feet are?" He sighed and looked to his brother. "So… what do you think? Will you help me?"

Hans couldn't help but smile. "Alright, alright. You can go on a short ride with Sitron and I."

"Oh, thank you, Hans. If I can avoid her for the least little while without being obviously rude, I'll do anything. I didn't want to trouble you when you just got off the boat, but you were my only hope."

"It's what brothers do," shrugged Hans, remembering when he'd said the same words to Anna out on the balcony. "I'm feeling a bit worn tonight though, Heins. Do you mind if we talk tomorrow?"

"Of course not!" said his brother, putting a hand on his shoulder with a pat. "It is good to have you back, little brother. Even if they don't mean it, I do."

Hans watched his brother disappear around the corner and entered his room, stunned to see his mother standing there, the picture of beauty with the moonlight from his open window casting a white glow around her figure. Would he have no rest from people tonight? Unlike the encounter with his brothers, Hans felt he needed to speak to his mother. He bowed, which he was also getting tired of doing tonight, and tried to smile as honestly as possible. "Mother?"

"Are you alright?" His mother approached with the grace of a feather in the wind, drifting over the floor as if her feet never touched it at all. "Let me see." She held out her hands for his own, which he gave up to her, and she scrutinized the doctor's work with a mother's eye, her touch like a breeze as she brushed her fingers over the bandages. "Oh my baby… my baby…" She brought his wrists to her lips and bestowed a kiss with each, even if he didn't feel it through the gauze. She let his arms down and turned, fetching something from his desk side table and holding it out, a plate of chocolate cake. "I brought you some of your favorite dessert. I thought you would want some home comfort after being away for so long."

The look of damage behind her eyes caught the thought of eating anything, no matter how delicious, appalling. He accepted it and smelled the heavenly aroma of the chocolate lining the fluffy cake, shaking his head, setting it aside on his dresser. "You didn't have to."

"I know." She took his hands, leading him to his bed, and gracefully perched on the edge, her gown pooling out around her. "I wanted to be there tonight. Your Father and I both did. But we had to discuss things."

_Things. _"There's no use in prolonging it or ignoring it, Mother." Hans dropped his gaze. "We might as well just accept it."

"Hans… I don't know why. I can't understand why. But I love you. No matter what happens, I love you. You know that, my baby?" She brought a hand to frame his cheek, and he was astonished at how cold her skin felt against his flesh, bringing his glove to cover it and facing her.

"You're freezing, Mother… your hand is like ice."

"It's this changing weather, that's all. Now that we're entering autumn… things getting cooler. This castle, I swear, is so hard to keep warm…"

_She's lying. Mother, why are you lying? _A sinking feeling of fearing the worst filled Hans. "Mother." She faced him as his gaze turned into one searching. "What's really wrong?"

"It's nothing, Hans. Just a little case of chills. We should be talking about you… your father and I… we just don't know what to do. I can't believe you would do something like this, something so utterly… terrible."

"I told you it was true, Mother. Why do you doubt it?"

"Because I know _you_, sweetheart." Allowyn dropped her hand and rested her hand on her son's knee. "I know you better than anyone else in the world… I don't know what you want… what you were searching for… but I know it's not a kingdom…"

Hans blinked, running over the words in his head, looking down at her hand as if trying to focus on himself. _What do I want? _"What do I want?" he spoke the words out loud, lifting his gaze to look at her mother.

"I can't answer for you, baby. You have to answer for yourself. But no matter what happens, I will always be right here." She leaned in and kissed his cheek, which, no matter how troubled Hans was, seemed to warm his very heart, bringing a smile with it. "There's my boy…" She thumbed his cheek and rose from his bed. "Your Father and I will see you tomorrow in the throne room to discuss our decisions."

"Mother?" Hans started, rising from the bed to follow just before she left his doorway.

She turned with the same grace she'd entered, a smile on her thin lips. "Yes, love?"

Hans picked up the plate of chocolate cake and cut a small piece with the fork, lifting it to his mouth and taking a bite, swallowing, the sweetness following all the way down his throat. "Thank you."

The queen smiled at the chocolate color on her son's teeth, a reminder of when he'd been a little boy. Though not so little anymore, he was still her boy, and she wouldn't give up on him like that, no matter what her other son had told her about how nefarious his plans were and how damaging the effect would be on their land.

#

Hans never imagined cake could taste so good. He was looking out the window when the door opened and shut once more, the lamplights far below long since extinguished, all life quiet. He turned, expecting to see his polite, but invasive brother Heins, or his Mother come back, always worried for him, but instead he saw Harald, half-shadowed in the fading moonlight. "… what are you doing here?" Hans asked, standing to his feet.

He hardly had time to react before his older brother's knee came smashing into his gut, collapsing with a gasp where his fingers contracted against the hard floor. Harald backed away, staring him down. "You think your little stunt in Arendelle isn't going to cost you?"

Hans gasped out, tears building in his green eyes from the pain, his fingers still spasming against the floor for a grip. "Why?"

"I lost two of my best soldiers today. 'Too unnecessarily violent', the king said. That won't happen again. If the king asks you tomorrow when you're before him how you were treated, what are you going to say?"

Hans's body trembled with the aftershock of pain, each breath bringing with it more difficulty to continue.

"_What are you going to_ _say_?" shouted Harald, bending over Hans and forcing his head down against the ground.

"I'll say they treated me well!" Hans managed with a gasp, tears burning his eyes as he flinched, the pressure against his head releasing as Harald walked calmly back to his room door.

"Good. You learn." Harald brushed his glove against one of his medals, looking back at his younger brother briefly. "You're pathetic. You can be sure I'll work my damned hardest to get you the highest sentence I can get. And if you're killed… we'll be better off." The clock in Hans' room struck midnight, and the brother scoffed. "You still keep that thing? Good. Maybe it'll remind you why you won't tell the king about our little encounter. In fact, you're going to keep up appearances for the rest of your life, aren't you?"

"…yes," whispered Hans, his head pounding as hard as his heart.

"What was that?"

"Yes."

"See you tomorrow." Harald walked toward the room door and paused before closing it. "Oh, and little brother? Sweet dreams."

Hans wiped at his eyes after his brother disappeared, using the bed as a support structure to climb on top of it. He groaned as he sprawled on top of it, sure his ribs would be bruised from the attack the next day. He turned to face the ticking of the clock and the tears ran anew down his cheeks. He buried his face into the folds of his pillow to forget everything else and find temporary peace in the wake of dreams.


	4. Doors In My Face

**A/N: Sooo much positive feedback! I love you all. I've changed the rating of the fic to T just because I don't want to have to insert "T rated spot here" whenever something happens. Most of the story should be safe for younger audiences, but slight cursing/violence from time to time. I will aim for a chapter update once a week if possible. :3 (Reference sake: Sitron=Lemon in Swedish, Kalk= Lime.) **

** Oh, and if you like this story, you may want to check out my fic one shots which involve Hans. I love to explore his character and I honestly believe he's one of the most complicated characters in Frozen. I may write some more one shots with his family/him based off of this fic as we go along to keep inspiration fresh. Thanks to all my new watchers and reviewers, you are all amazing!**

**-Chapter Three-**

** Doors In My Face**

Hans trailed his fingers over his chest and abdomen, examining the purple and blue from different angles in the body-length mirror. Each inhale sent a brand new bloom of pain rushing through his body, his stomach quivering. Well, at least they were his country's royal colors. He'd managed a few hours of sleep, which had helped the healing process, but now he was presented with a new dilemma. In a fit of exhaustion, he'd promised Heins company on a ride in the country, but his father had already confined him to the castle. He couldn't do both, but hell would freeze over before he wouldn't try to figure out a way to both please his father and help his brother. He had just began to rack his brain for ideas when a fist pounded against his door, causing him to snag a white robe and tie it over himself, preening his hair enough to look presentable, and opening his door.

Harald stood over him and sneered. "Overslept, did you? Time to rise and shine, little brother. I've spoken to the king and he wishes to hold an audience with the entire family come sundown. I suggest you get dressed before then."

Hans inhaled a silent breath and held it. "I'll be there. Tell father that I'll be there."

"I'll tell him whatever I think is important enough to tell him." His eyes flickered down to the slightest glimpse of bruising on his brother's chest and he jabbed it with a finger, half his mouth twitching into a smile as Hans grimaced, clutching at the spot. "Don't even think about trying to leave. I'll be standing guard at the gates personally until I'm in the same room when your failure is announced to everyone. Your time…" he drew his gaze upward, towards the slow, steady ticking of the golden clock over Hans' door, "is almost up." He started to shut the door, false pleasantries passing over his expression. "Oh, and be sure to take a walk Hans, it's a lovely day in the Isles."

**#**

"What do you mean you can't go?" Heins pleaded, fingers interlaced, eyes as large as a puppy begging for attention. "You have to go!" He bent down on one knee among the hay on the stable floor, his chestnut horse watching the action, then bowing itself, a trick all of the Southern Isle royal steeds knew to show off to visiting countries and ambassadors. Parrots were entertaining, and dogs were wonderful for hunting, but every brother agreed horses were truly the most useful, so each brother had, in a manner of unwritten traditions, gone with the king to pick his own horse upon his thirteenth birthday.

"I _can't_," repeated Hans, feeling sorry for his brother, tightening the saddle on Sitron, his horse nipping his shoulder playfully, looking forward to the ride. "I can't go beyond the castle gates. There' s a reason they're shut." _The citizens are probably beginning to wonder what's going on behind these doors. Father won't keep them waiting for long. What could he want to tell me? What has he decided?_

"But why are they shut?" asked Heins, confusion apparent in his expression. "They haven't been shut since… since Harry left."

The mention of the absence of his brother made Hans quiet for a moment. He shrugged it off as he fitted Sitron's bit between the horse's teeth, following up with a cube of sugar for the trouble, much to his steed's delight. "Wherever he is, he's probably much happier. I don't blame him." Harry, being the brother closest to Hans' age and therefore one he was rather familiar with, had disappeared one night upon his eighteenth year, taking his few possessions with him and leaving only a scrap of paper asking his parents not to look for him. Hans suspected it was because of the arranged marriage, which had been the case for a few of his brothers, though some hadn't worked out as cleanly as planned. "Anyway, it doesn't matter why they're closed, the point is they're closed and I'm not supposed to go beyond them."

"But if we stay on the castle grounds, Princess Orion is sure to find us! You promised you would keep her away from me, Hans! I can't just leave the castle grounds alone, people will get suspicious and Harald is sure to tell father! Then I'd be forced to spend even more time with her! You _can't_ let me down now!"

"I can't helpyou, Heins, I'm sorry, I really am." Hans dipped a foot into one stirrup on Sitron and swung into his horse's saddle, shifting to make himself comfortable. He looked to his brother, who managed the tiniest lip quiver. "Stop looking at me like that! Even if I _wanted_ to go beyond the gates, do you honestly think Harald is going to open them against father's orders just because I say please?" Mentioning his brother's name brought his attention to another hum of pain coming from his chest. He tried to remind himself the purple and blue marks looked royal.

Heins' hope crumbled with his facial expression, knowing too well how his older brother would react. He ventured a last try to convince Hans with a whimper. "He could be nice today?"

"Not likely," replied Hans, giving Sitron a slight tap in the flanks to tell his steed to start a gentle walk. _If I could go outside, beyond this walls… even to get away from all of this even for one day… to think about what I did… I would. I have so much to think about… and it's not like bruising ever bothered me, anyway. I'm sorry, Heins. I wish I could help you. You've always been there when I needed someone to play with as a kid, someone to ask opinion of… someone to tell my deepest, darkest secrets… but… _

"Prince Heeeeins?" A female voice, with a clear soprano tone, rang through the outer air, sounding as if it were coming closer to the stables. Sitron froze in midstep, ears pointing straight up, flicking towards the source.

"It's her!" gasped Heins, panic seizing his features, looking one way, then the other. "What do I do?"

Hans glanced behind him, gaze settling on a column of bound hay meant for the horses, the only option available for his brother to keep a low profile judging by the closeness of the princess' voice, hissing. "Get behind the hay, quick."

"Prince Heeeeins? Come out, come out, wherever you areee!" the voice rang, footsteps sounding.

Heins dove behind the hay stacks as if his life depended on it, and just in the nick of time, as a woman rounded the corner of the stable doors.

The first feature standing out to Hans was her dress. It was simply huge. He'd never seen a woman wear something this big, this intricate, simply for walking around outside in. It was a soft sky blue color, streaks of white going down to the lacy bottom, and it reminded him vaguely of clouds. The bodice turned from the sky blue into a darker, ocean-colored blue with purple jewels encrusting the silky sleeves, probably a color scheme meant to suck up to his kingdom, since blue and purple were his nation's colors. She had fawn-colored hair, half spilling in ringlet waves down her back and half piled on top of her head in an intricate crown to join a metal tiara, a tiny golden thing encrusted with various jewels. Sparkling blue eyes dashed with a dusting of eyeshadow and a caking of mascara blinked, taking in the view of the stable. Her perfectly pouty lips quirked into a tiny frown and then her eyes alighted on Hans.

_She's pretty. A bit overdone, but pretty. _Of course, most princesses were good-looking. Hans had seen many, many princesses before this one, and shared many interactions with them. The end results were always very much the same.

"Greetings to you, your highness," she quipped, taking a fold of each end of the dress she wore and dipping royally into a curtsey. "I am Princess Orion of Allorin."

"Good morning, my lady," replied Hans, politeness pouring from him as he bent forward from the saddle in a bow, Sitron following suit.

"May I ask which of the princes you are?" she asked in a tone which conveyed she didn't really care, her hair blowing in a light breeze of the day, exposing tiny flowers intertwined within it. The hair style alone probably took her a few hours to do, Hans mused. As a mental side note, he was once again thankful he'd been born a son. His parents fussed over his looks as much as parents would do for any child, but he'd never had to worry about excessive grooming, confining corsets, or unneeded undergarments like women.

"The Prince Hans. Thirteenth in line of the Southern Isles." The line came so easily and quickly he hardly knew he'd said it.

Her expression remained politely strained, but otherwise impassive. She was clearly unimpressed. "Ah. Tell me, Prince Hans, would you've any idea where your brother, the Prince Heins, has gone?"

And there it was. The same reaction and always the same reason princesses spoke a word to him. Do you know where your older brother "insert name here" is? Do you know "insert names' here" favorite food? What's his favorite sport? What's his favorite color? How much inheritance does he receive? _He's behind the haystacks, broccoli and cheese, boules, green, and one thirteenth. _Alright, so perhaps the last question wasn't exactly spoken outloud, but Hans knew enough to figure out what they meant by their invasive intrusions. It would have been nice to be the focus of attention… for once. He smiled gracefully, his feigning fueled by irritation at being ignored. "I'm afraid I have no idea, Princess."

Her eyes darted around the stables, settling on Heins' horse, saddled and ready to go, directly beside Hans. "Are you planning a ride with someone, Prince Hans?"

Hans looked to his brother's horse, Kalk, wondering what he could dredge up to sound true. "Just deciding which horse is a better fit for today's ride, milady. The royal steeds are temperamental at times." Sitron turned and nipped at his owner as if to refute this statement.

"Mm." He could tell she didn't believe him one bit, her dark eyelashes batting. "Well then, before I resume my search for your elusive sibling, would you mind doing me the favor of telling me what you think of my gown?"

His opinion on her gown? How could she possibly ask any man such a thing and expect him to know how to answer properly? She must have been vain, searching for compliments to fuel her insecurities. _Do all women think men actually know the answer to that question? _He remembered how little the Princess Anna had focused on his brothers, his inheritance, or on anything really related to royalty. He truly missed her informality. She'd gone so far as to sock him in the nose with her over enthusiastic storytelling, to talk about underwear and sandwiches and such ridiculously odd things and he'd found it absolutely… charming. Would Elsa have been the same? Whenever he'd seen her, it had been under… stressful circumstances, so he'd never known how she acted normally…

"The gown?" she prompted.

Sitron snorted, snapping his master back into the present day while making his opinion on the matter clear. "Yes? Oh, yes. Your gown is… lovely." Truly a lame response, but the best he could come up with at the moment.

She was clearly disappointed with the lack of detail in his answer, and pursed her lips. "I wanted to impress Prince Heins with it, because, you understand, he's incredibly knowledgeable about fashions, but now I don't know if it will do. I've worn it because it's one of his designs. The man selling it to me has proven it to me. If you see, here," she pointed at a ruffle along her bodice, lifting extra fabric to reveal a golden stitched letter, "the H clearly symbolizes his work. As I told my father, when it comes to a Prince of the Southern Isles, price is no object."

There was a snigger from behind the hay, a noise like someone concealing laughter. Hans paled a little, thinking fast and speaking loud to conceal the noise. "Oh, yes! I'm sure he would find the use of our nation's colors… intriguing… _if he were here_!"

She walked forward, into the stable, closer to Heins' hiding place, and Hans decided if he were to save his brother from a day with the pompous princess, his acting prowess must come now, and full throttle. She was clearly obsessed with her clothing and her appearance; he would have to abuse it while hoping she'd take the bait. "Wait!" he shouted, thrusting a hand out for her to stop, vaulting off of Sitron, the horses both looking nervous at his sudden change in tone. She had stopped, staring at him with wide, startled eyes. "Your dress, milady! Surely you cannot intend to walk in the stables wearing such a delicate, one of a kind piece."

She dropped her eyes down and gasped as she saw the faintest bits of dirt on the white lace where the dress had brushed the ground. "Oh, my! No! Not my Heins original design! What should I do? I can't meet the Prince looking like this! He'll surely notice! He'll surely be insulted! What have I done?"

"Now, now, my lady, calm down," Hans soothed, holding out both hands. "Don't move. I shall carry you beyond the stable threshold."

She looked him over, and then at the few footsteps she'd need to take to return outside, nodding, holding her arms out. "You may carry me, Prince…" She stopped, clearly having forgotten his name. Hans inwardly rolled his eyes. "Thirteenth Prince."

Any thoughts Hans had dignified of entertaining the princess' company himself to save his brother the trouble were dashed to pieces with her comment. He grit his teeth. "I wouldn't dream of any other way." Bending down, Hans lifted her, grunting to get the entirety of her dress fabrics within his grip. He carried her the few steps leading outside the stable and plopped her purposely down into a small pile of horse dropping with disregard, composing himself. Her look of annoyance was enough to make him feel better as he watched her scrap her heel against the cleaner ground. "I believe my brother was last seen going that way, opposite the stables. You may be able to catch him if you hurry."

The princess gazed over the hardly-affected gown, a few piece of the lace dark in color. "Not like this!" Her fingers moved to the buttons lining the front. Hans gaped as she began to unbutton them, one after another, and then cocked his head in confusion as she stepped completely out of the gown, her dress anew, but completely different, dark green in color with soft lime highlights, likely her own nation's colors. "It's not a Heins original piece, but I can't bear to have him see I've dirtied something he made! Would you be a dear and have this cleaned for me while I continue my search?" She tossed the dress towards the stunned Hans, who fumbled and caught the pile of fabric.

"You… wore two dresses?" He could hardly believe how absurd it was.

"Of course. I have to be prepared should it not be an original piece made by your brother or in case of emergencies." She removed a fan from the folds of satin along her waist and unflipped it, giving herself a little breeze as she faced away from him, her focus quickly drifting. "You may not understand, being so young still, but a true princess has priorities. She has only one chance to impress her future husband, and I'm not going to let the chance go to waste," she remarked, snapping the fan closed and tossing that in his direction as well as if he were a lady in waiting. "Prince HEINS!" she shouted in a much less sweet voice, sauntering off in the opposite direction.

Hans watched her go and waited until she'd completely disappeared before turning back towards the hay. "You can come out now. She's gone."

"You were simply amazing, little brother! I've never seen such acting!" Heins gushed, face bright. "Surely you cannot expect to cross wearing a delicate piece of beauty- and the setting her down in the- I can't even finish my sentences, it was perfect!"

"Now I know why you want to get away from her so badly," replied Hans with a half-grin, tossing the girl's dress to his brother, where he caught it. "Don't let it get dirtier, for heaven's sake!"

Heins held the dress out for inspection and stuck his tongue out, blanching as he draped the fabric over the wall of a stable holding pen to examine it more thoroughly. "If she thinks I'd design anything like this, she's sorely mistaken. The colors are all wrong- too bright a blue, far too bright to be Southern Isles colors… and the fabric bunches in the bodice… an H? Did she really think I'd be so presumptuous as to put my own initial on something I made? She's absolutely impossible if she thinks I'm going anywhere with her! Do you think we can do anything to keep it that way?" He tossed the dress back at his brother, where Hans fumbled to catch it, chuckling a little as he lifted it up against himself, the fabric almost big enough to hold himself and his brother unbuttoned.

"It's more like a tent than a dress! We can hide, but you know it's only a matter of time before one of the brothers rats us out… I ran into Helm on the way here. You _know_ how honest he is. He'd tell her _everything_ about where we are without suspecting a thing. What I wouldn't give to be able to go past the gates for a ride, just until sundown, when I meet with mother and father. I really wish there were something I could do… but I can't go beyond the gates, and you can't go alone… looks like we're both destined to endure the worst."

Heins opened his mouth to reply, and then tilted his head, a slow smile taking over his face as if he'd just been given a great idea. "How badly do you want to go?"

"What do you mean?" Hans asked, raising an eyebrow.

Heins just grinned, advancing and circling Hans once. "How badly do you want to go? Because if you're willing to do what I say… I think I have an idea. But we'll have to work fast. You'll have to trust me, little brother."

"Hans! Hans, where are you? I know you're out here!"

Hans quirked an eyebrow, glancing outside. He saw the tall, thin figure of his brother Horatio approaching, accounting book in hand, and he looked _angry. _He turned back to Heins, desperation winning out. He'd already faced the fury of one brother last night, and he had no intention of facing another anytime soon. "Yes! Yes, I trust you. If you have a plan… let's do it."

**#**

"Heins! Heins!" shouted Horatio, making him stop Kalk in midstep, giving his brother attention. "Have you seen Hans anywhere? I need to have a _talk_ with him about his experiences in Arendelle." He snapped the open book in his hand shut. Although Horatio wore an expression as if he were attending a funeral, and dressed much the same in moody, dark colors, he was an excellent treasurer for the king. "It's very important." Hoof beats sounded as a hooded figure rode up next to Heins, side saddle as ladies normally did, folds of the elegant gown spilling over the side of the horse, who Horatio recognized as Sitron. "Oh… I didn't know you were entertaining anyone."

Heins flashed him a brilliant smile. "This is the Princess Orion of Allorin. She and I are going for a short ride out in the countryside. I'm sure Hans can't get far, not without Sitron. The Princess needed a steed so I picked out the most gentle of ours to use."

Horatio blinked, looking over the figure of the shadowed woman, who flapped her fan a few times in front of her face, a pair of green eyes vaguely sparkling beneath the hood. "My lady," he said, nodding. "Well, if you see Hans, you would do well to tell him we need to speak as soon as possible."

"I will, I promise." Heins crossed his heart, turning to his company. "Shall we go, milady?"

Horatio watched the two of them riding off, noting Heins' words sounded strained. He felt sorry his brother had to endure the company of such an unflattering woman, returning to his search before he could hear his brother's laughter.

Heins had composed himself by the time he arrived before the shut gates, nodding to the guard on duty, "Good afternoon! If you wouldn't mind opening the gates, we need access to the countryside."

The soldier turned to a companion nearby, and then looked back, but not at Heins, his hand snapping to a salute.

"What are you doing?" Harald walked up to his brother, eyes narrowed, face set in a stern glower. "The gates are shut."

"I know that!" Heins waved a hand as if it were a trivial thing. "But I want to take Kalk for a ride in the countryside with my company, the Princess Orion."

"Princess?" Harald stepped around his brother and gazed at the massive dress hanging off the cloaked figure, blinking. The green eyes behind the lacy fan sparkled. His steely gaze sharpened. "I don't think the king will take well to anyone leaving the courtyards, even if they're entertaining visiting royalty. You aren't going anywhere."

Heins simply smiled. "If that's how you feel, Harald. Then I'll just have to take my plea before father myself and you can explain to him how you'll apologize to the kingdom of Allorin for such a slight… how terribly you've _shirked_ your _duty._"

Harald stiffened, eyes passing from the Princess to Heins, and then behind him to the castle. He frowned, thick eyebrows narrowing with his eyes, silent for a moment before responding. "I suppose small exceptions can be made. You have one hour for whatever frolic you may fancy before I come after you myself… and make no mistake, I _will_ come after you."

"You've got a deal!" Heins exclaimed, leading the way as the two slipped between the opening gates, crossing the drawbridge and disappearing across the massive stone bridge leading to the town beyond, the gates thundering shut once more.

"But… but sir…" stumbled one of the two soldiers, still new under Harald's command. "Would it not be prudent to allow any interactions with visiting royalty?"

The head of the militia turned his back on the soldiers and headed for the castle. "Indeed it would, if that were royalty. Keep the gates closed. I have a matter of business to attend to with the king."

Puzzled, the soldiers returned to their guard as vigilantly as ever, never seeing the scheming smile slowly creep onto their captain's face.

**#**

**Slight** **after note: I could have expanded the length of this chapter a lot more with events I've saved for the next, but I think this is a good general length for most chapters. What do you readers think? Should I make the chapters longer but wait longer for updates? Or this length generally and update more regularly? And one more time, thank you to everyone for taking the time to read and enjoy; you guys are the reason I do it. **


	5. Kingdom of Isolation

**A/N: Okie dokie, length preferences are noted! Enjoy the next chapter, and as always a huge thank you to all my readers, my watchers, and the biggest thank you to my reviewers for keeping me on track with updates and inspiration! There were so many places I felt I could have cut this chapter off early, but I just couldn't find the perfect spot, so we ended up with a super long one (almost twice as long as usual) instead. Consider leaving a review in return, even if it's just a simple one? I'll be forever grateful for any feedback!**

**-Chapter Four-**

**Kingdom of Isolation**

"I can't believe it worked!" Heins shouted over the distance between them as they rode past the town borders, into the wild of the forest. The Southern Isles was known as a green land, one that would see occasional heavy snow in the winters, but never for extended periods. Snow deep enough to cause problems for the working man was rare, especially because most of the land lacked the expansive high mountains which were so common in Arendelle. Instead, the majority of the landscape was comprised of hills, wooded areas, and flat land, most of the mountains too short to succumb to freezing temperatures easily.

His father's kingdom was dubbed "The Southern Isles", but really, the castle stood on what people referred to as the "mainland", when the actual Southern Isles were a series of islands and connecting inlets on the verge of the kingdom of Allorin, a mountaineering kingdom to the north. It had settled closer to where the smaller Northern Isles prospered. The visit of the Princess Orion was likely a stunt from the Allorin government seeking to merge the two kingdoms under good graces as the Isles continued to expand with careful claiming of surrounding land.

Hans shed the oversized dress by undoing the buttons , draping it over Sitron's back, snug under the front part of the saddle before slowing his steed, having gotten away from the public, who only saw Prince Heins with a visiting princess and focused their rumors on their relationship. Hans flipped open the princess' fan and playfully gave it a few flaps in front of his face, letting go of his apprehension the best he knew how given the freedom he felt with his favored older sibling. "Well, obviously I was just too pretty for them to notice anything but my flattering feminine graces!"

Heins tried not to laugh but it spilled out before he could stop it, covering his mouth as it came as an undignified snort. His brother was anything _but_ an attractive woman. "Obviously."

"I bow to your expertise in the art of disguise," Hans flashed a smirk in his brother's direction as Sitron took his rider toward a patch of green grass. "I have to admit, I didn't think we'd pull it off, but I shouldn't have doubted the greatest fashionisto in the kingdom."

"Only the kingdom?" Heins asked as he pushed his brother playfully. He felt his heart warm at seeing Hans smile, a smile rare, though not quite so rare as his father's. It wasn't so much being around the older brothers which seemed to make Hans sad at times, because, well, they were brothers. They were always going to tease him in some capacity just as they teased Heins for his interest in clothing. His brother's periods of depression, confusing personal leave, and often violent sparks of rebellion came from another source entirely, and as much as Heins hated the truth, he knew it was a source he could not heal. He tried not to focus on such grim prospects. Hans was home now, and that was all that mattered.

"The world," corrected Hans with a chuckle and a rougher push back.

"I didn't think you'd go along with it; it sounded so crazy when I first thought of it," Heins remarked, letting Kalk wander, his horse following Sitron and trying to edge him out for the greenest patch.

"I love crazy," responded Hans, giving Sitron a little pat on the neck as the horse snorted, flicking his ebony tail.

"We have an hour before Harald starts his tyranny and comes after us, likely with half the army behind him," said Heins, looking back at the castle behind them in the distance. "Where do you want to go? Unless you want to don your dress again, we should stay away from the town, but there's the woods, the grassy hills, the lakes…"

Hans hesitated before answering, his expression softening into thoughtful features which looked incredibly similar to his mother. _I finally have time to myself, and it turns out I'm on a stopwatch. An hour isn't enough time to do much of anything, but… _He stopped to gather his bearings, pushing thoughts of his crimes out of his head. One aged memory, soldered forever into the recesses of his mind, lingered. _I know what I want to do. _"You don't have to come with me," he said as he looked to his older brother, who seemed puzzled at first.

"You're my brother," responded Heins as he studied his brother's words, oblivious to the dark events which had occurred in Arendelle, "I'll follow you to the end." A look of understanding softened his features, sadness and sympathy both taking equal share in his expression. Taking stock of their surroundings, he recognized them, as would any of the sons of the king. "I know where you want to go."

"And you still want to come?"

"Yes." Heins reached over and gave Hans a pat on the shoulder. "Let's go together."

The ride into the lesser outskirts of the woods was short, and took less than ten minutes, but it was obviously untraveled by the common man. Hans guided Sitron through the occasional path of overgrown thicket and weed, until the thicker brush receded to give way to a small walkway of stone. The walkway led up to an overlook of the kingdom, dotted in wild grasses and small flowers, sparse blooms of lilac fallen from their shrubs over the stones in their way. The prince shifted off of his steed and stood beside Sitron, staring at the meager stone monument in front of him with a grim outlook. Whoever had built the tablet had not devoted enough lasting care to such an emotional project, for whatever had been written was long since worn away by a jealous environment. Still, it was clear the slab of stone meant something important, strikingly different from the naturally-formed boulders and rocks alongside it, smoothed and polished at one point, a light grey among the darker rocks outlining it.

Hans studied it for some time, noticing a small tuft of dried flowers laid beside it. He glanced over at Heins with a questioning look, who nodded in response.

"I come here sometimes. Most of us do."

Hans bent over and began to pick a few wildflowers, one after another, most of it the fallen lilac, as it was the most prevalent, until he had a fist-sized clump gathered. He set them down before the slab in replacement of the previous flowers, but the wind stirred and they began to blow away, ungrounded. Snatching the clump again before too much damage was done, he simply knelt before the monument, a thousand thoughts in his head all competing for priority, all giving way to that single dreaded picture he would never forget, set as firmly in place as the stone before him.

Heins let his brother alone at first, knowing silence was more honorable and more traditional in such cases, but kept his eyes on Hans regardless. He watched his brother's emotions soar and plummet, a cascade of personal turmoil he could not heal. Heaven knows he'd tried before... He knelt beside his brother, putting a hand on his back. Hans was silent, but his grip tightened around the flower bouquet. Heins reached around the back of his own collar, grabbing a piece of the silk black ribbon holding his ponytail in place. He pulled the ribbon free, letting his long hair down, and wrapped the ribbon gently around the bouquet in his brother's hand, tying a simple bow to keep the flowers in a bunch and offering his brother a shared sympathetic look.

Hans set the flowers before the stone, removing his gloves as he noted the grass stains on them. He lifted a hand and put it down on the rock, letting it rest there. Neither one of the brothers needed to say anything, so the two stayed quiet, letting their horses graze nearby while their thoughts overtook the silence.

It was nearly fifty minutes later when Heins stood and led their horses from where they'd wandered back to the outlook, speaking for the first time since their period of silence. "Hans. We should go."

Hans looked back at his brother, and then at the sun slowly setting in the distance. His time was coming. His father wanted to see him, and soon he would know whatever future waited beyond his sight. He felt better about things now, more resolved, more… disillusioned to whatever hate he knew would be coming from his family. "I'm ready."

Heins removed the dress from Sitron's saddle and held it out to his brother. "Princess?"

Hans managed the slightest smile as he slipped the outfit over himself for his encore performance, glancing back at the slab one last time. He replaced his gloves on his hands to help him grip the reins of his steed, focus set on the castle alone. As he rode, he could not help but notice the touch of the cold, unfeeling stone lingered on his fingertips, sinking deeper until he could swear he felt it smothering his heart with its icy grip.

#

The clip-clop of Kalk's hooves against the cobblestone slowed immensely as Heins neared the front gates, waiting for his brother, who was not quite as experienced at riding sidesaddle, to catch up to him. He spoke in a hushed tone from the corner of his mouth, eyes staring ahead to avoid suspicion. "The gates are open."

Hans thought, trying to reason the best course of action, face shadowed by his cloak. "We could try to sneak in when it's a bit darker?"

"Too late, they already see us," Heins drew his gaze upwards, Hans following, to see a few sparse soldiers manning the walls of the castle, looking at the two figures on horseback. "Get ready to act your heart out."

Hans flipped the fan outwards with a flick of his wrist, "I was born ready." He took count of the people awaiting their arrival as they neared, eyes searching especially for the one piece of the puzzle who could shatter their illusion completely- the princess. Thank God, she wasn't there. She must have given up searching and gone to spill her woes on whoever would listen to her. Hans noted two, three, four soldiers total, none of which he worried about, and then saw Harald striding up to the gates. Hans wasn't sure whether they'd fooled him or not the first time, but his worry escalated as he saw his brother's face. His posture stiff, holding himself almost high enough to be on his toes, he looked proud… arrogant… _smug. _

Hans furrowed his thin brows as he tried to figure out why, only to have Heins shove his side with an elbow, lightly enough to get his attention but not ruin his balance. He heard one word from his brother, "_father_", and his blood ran cold.

The king walked both freely and proudly towards the gates, commanding respect from everyone he came in contact with but without ever having to request it. His blue cloak just barely brushed the ground, shorter than the one Hans had seen him wear in the throne room, his eyes seeming to stare directly at Hans even through the closing distance between them. The soldiers saluted, Harald the last to do so, his smile almost too big for his face, eyes snapping to face Heins and Hans as they came close enough to see the king.

"Father," began Heins, with a nod. He gestured to Hans, fumbling to finish a sentence, "this is- that is, we were- I wanted to show… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to leave…"

Harald's eyes gleamed like a cat cornering a crippled mouse.

"But of course," the king said, turning his attention on Hans, looking past the disguise completely into his son's eyes so much like his own. His lips curved into a secretive smile. "You wanted to show visiting royalty proper consideration. Under such circumstances, your choice of action is completely understood."

Harald's jaw fell, looking from the king, to Hans, and then back.

"But, your highness, the-"

"That will be enough, thank you, Harald." The king moved his smile to face the captain, nodding once. "You may close the gates now that my son has returned."

"But I..." Harald started, closing his jaw, the grit of his teeth audible behind his pert lips. "Yes, your highness."

The king looked to the figure astride Sitron, lifting an eyebrow and extended two hands to assist with the tricky disembarkment of the sidesaddle position. "Permit me?"

Hans nodded dumbly, sweating profusely under the hood, his sideburns itching and his gloves sticking to his fingers. He held out his arms and allowed his father to help him down, reminded of times when he was too young to ride by himself and similar help had occurred. He felt his father take his hand as he was taught to take a lady's hand, with their consent, palm up, managing to look his father in the eyes only to see a sparkle of amusement. Heins followed behind them, all the way into the castle, up the stairs, and into the throne room, where the Queen was absent. They stopped in the middle of the room, before the throne, and watched as the king closed the throne doors.

He moved to take a seat in his throne, and, with a small series of chuckles, began to escalate into a bout of laughing. It was simply impossible not to join, and soon all three family members were following suit, Hans letting his hood down to allow his skin to breathe freely as he peeled the dress away. Hans could not remember the last time he'd laughed honestly with his father.

"Alright…" the king began with a breath to relieve himself, wiping at an eye tearing up, looking from Hans to Heins, "So which one of you is going to explain this to me?"

Heins held a hand up to stop his brother before he started, and stepped forward, taking a huge breath, hands tucked behind him as if he were reciting a piece from a school play. "Well, Hans wanted to go outside the gates even though he said you told him not to and I wanted to avoid Princess Orion because she's stuck up, clingy, and she desperately wants to marry me despite the fact that she knows nothing about me, and I thought that if Hans could pass for her so then Harald would let us through, and by the way, father, he was being really, really mean today, and so we left because he let us through and now we're back." He took an extra breath and released it. "And that's about it."

"Well don't leave anything out!" exclaimed the king, a few more deep chuckles resounding from him. "If you were desperate enough to dress as a woman to get outside, you must have wanted to get to your destination very badly," he said, supporting an elbow on the throne arm and gazing at Hans. "Where were you going, son?"

_Son. _The use of the word warmed Hans, or maybe it was the flush creeping along his neck. He could feel his father's affection with the use of that word, and it was so much better than feeling alone. "I went to visit… the gravesite."

The king's expression took on a stunned look. Then, as Hans often knew, that unreadable quality which made him so intriguing even from childhood. He closed his eyes.

The throne doors opened.

"Hans!" His mother appeared, draped in a long robe of purple silk, draped over her dress and tied by a silky sash to match, her hair a little broken as if she'd just awoken from a sleep full of tossing and turning.

"Allowyn," the king began, getting down from his throne and approaching her. Hans rarely saw his father worried, but there was a twinge of it somewhere in his face, perhaps in the wrinkles of his forehead. "You should not be up and about."

She waved a flippant hand at her husband, the only person known to quiet the king in his tracks, and went to Hans' side, gazing with puzzlement at the pool of the gown at his feet. "How can you talk about sleep, George? Clearly I've been absent during the most interesting part of the story!" she exclaimed, her smile brightening the room.

Heins took a deep breath and the king brought a hand to his forehead as the recitation began once again. "Well, Hans wanted to go outside the gates even though he said you told him not to and I wanted to avoid Princess Orion-"

"And you disguised him in order to save each other from a less than enjoyable fate," finished Allowyn, looking at Heins' gaping jaw and flashing him a wink.

"How does she do that?" Heins asked his father, flabbergasted.

George shrugged with a smile of his own. "There are some things even a king doesn't know how to answer, son…" He gestured for his wife to join his side, the sun casting orange glows over the isles as it descended. The light cast shadows over his mother's figure. "Allowyn… it's time."

Her face slackened, and Hans watched her expression grow shadowed, her smile fading. "Heins," she started, offering him a half-smile composed solely with effort, "we must speak to your brother alone. Why don't you take this dress back to its rightful owner?"

"Do I have to do it personally?" he asked, looking sorrowful.

"You may have one of the servants return it if you wish."

Releasing a breath of thankfulness, Heins gathered the dress in his arms with a few tucks and grabbles for a hold, flashing a grin at his brother. "I'll talk to you later…" He turned and raised his voice, whispering, "_my lady_!"

**#**

It wasn't until the doors were shut tight Hans faced his parents with a renewed sense of despondency. _No. A prince is strong. A prince is strong. A prince is ready to accept whatever comes. A prince is capable. He doesn't give up… more importantly… I don't give up. _He steeled himself against all outer emotions, determined to keep his thoughts to himself. "Father, Mother… I'm ready."

The king aligned his back with his throne, gazing upon his youngest son and releasing a single sigh. "Hans… it's good to hear one of us is..." He looked to his right, watching the sun steadily sink in the distance. Hans followed his line of sight. "Your actions, your _choice_ of treason against the kingdom of Arendelle has affected every single person under our rule. Do you understand that, son? You've damaged the livelihoods of every man, woman, and child down there, everyone who depends on us."

"I understand," Hans said, his hands limp at his sides. _Don't react. Don't think on it._

"Our people need trade, Hans. They need safety. I have to tell the kingdom what hardships may come now… I have to tell them about what crime has been committed. I will be telling them what you've done."

Panic gripped him in an unshakeable clench. Hans broke his look from the window to his mother, hoping to see some hope in her. He was stunned to see how sallow her expression looked without the light of the sun, how pale her skin seemed. Something was wrong. "I'm not afraid." True, it was a blatant lie, but even so, he felt better saying it.

His father was not looking at him when he next spoke. "The crime of murder under our law is cause for punishment by death."

Suddenly the room holding Hans seemed to grow so much smaller and suffocating around him. He felt insignificant under the grandeur of his parents, a feeling he knew oh so well beneath his older brothers. His voice came out as a squeak similar to when he'd gone through puberty, as much as he hoped he'd sound stronger. "Father..." He searched his mind for an emotion to settle on in the emptiness of the throne room, something to ground him as he lost his concentration. The only feeling he dredged up was a seething anger, but he could not place a directive, finally turning in on himself. _Why had he acted so foolishly? Why had he been so determined to be king by any means necessary? What was it he had wanted? How could he have been so stupid? _

"After deliberation between us, we came to the decision you did not commit said crime," his mother finished, her gaze soft, almost soft enough to be non-judgmental.

_I didn't_? Hans questioned, and his puzzlement must have been visible because his mother continued on with her explanation.

"You _attempted_ murder, but you did not complete the act. It is enough for us to choose our own punishment, which we have determined will not be death."

_Will not be death. Not be death. Not death. Not. Death. _Hans adjusted his attention back on his mother as she finished her speech, but he'd processed little beyond the hope he wasn't going to die. He'd been so sure upon arrival back in the Southern Isles he'd receive nothing less, and after Harald's threats, and all the guilt…

"I… Hans, I…" His mother tried several times to continue, but nothing else came, and finally his father stepped in, wrapping an arm around his wife's shoulder, which she leaned into, burying her face into his chest.

The king stepped forward, gesturing to the window showcasing the town below it. "For your crimes… from this moment on, you are no longer a prince of the Southern Isles."

"What do you mean?" Hans asked, looking to his mother for comfort, and finding dampness building a dam behind her blue eyes as she watched.

"… Do you remember what makes a prince, Hans?" asked his father, parting from his mother, coming down the steps. "You were all taught this truth, taught to recite it every day as a child. Think back and tell me, what makes a prince?"

Hans dropped his gaze from his father, doing as the king suggested, memories rising and falling within his mind. "… must I?"

"Yes, son… you must."

Hans took a breath and stood tall, hands at his side. He knew exactly what his father wanted to hear, and he quoted word-for-word the oath every son of the Southern Isles had learned. "A prince forgets the trespasses against him, no matter how terrible. He sacrifices for others, even to the expense of his soul. He forgives until he forfeits breath. He is strong, he is compassionate, and the sum of these things makes him complete…"

His father looked at him expectantly, and Hans sighed, adding on the last part.

"A prince I am, and a prince I will be."

The king looked over his son, his green eyes searching him so deeply it made Hans itch. "… I wish I could believe that, son… I wish I could believe."

The words cut into him with the chill of a dagger stabbing his heart.

"Until you follow those words… until you show you've earned the title of a true prince, you will not hold any of the honor associated with it. If your actions are any evidence of the future, you will never return to the castle to live under my roof… nor will you be allowed to leave the Isles. We cannot allow you to spread whatever corruption has hold of you any further. You will be escorted from the castle tomorrow at dawn."

Hans blinked, soaking in the words, searching his mother's eyes for any glimmer of disagreement, but whatever sign he hoped to find had been drowned in tears. "But… but father," he began, grasping for anything to say, "I… I live here. I am a prince, I promise you, I am."

George looked upon his son for moments that seemed long enough to fill an eternity, and suddenly came down towards him with a speed making Hans flinch. His father's great arms wrapped around him and the king held onto his son in a desperate hug as if he would never do so again. The words whispered in his ear were choked, a gasp from the man's throat between withheld waves of sorrow. "Then show me, son… show me."

**#**

Whatever words had been exchanged afterwards, Hans had not heard them. He was escorted from the throne room by two soldiers, assumingly to let his parents grieve their decision, and led to his room, where he was confined for several hours. It wasn't until much later Hans braved the door a crack to see if his captors were still as vigilant as ever, only to find they'd both left, likely from boredom. It made sense. He wasn't going to disappear, as much as he may have wished such a thing. And he wished it. He wished it.

He wandered the empty, dark halls, all sense of time lost to him, all thoughts stricken from his mind, his emotions askew. He felt furious at himself, his footsteps leading him to one of many halls lined in paintings. With thirteen children, his parents had plenty of celebrations to record in the strokes of a brush and plenty of yearly family portraits to make. His eyes scanned several of the portraits hanging over the hall, scenes and ages of himself and his brothers as they grew, coming to rest on a recent portrait of himself just before he'd left for Arendelle. The castle halls were full of these pictures, more than half of them false smiles never actually shown to the painter who'd been commissioned to create them. His portrait showed a young, hopeful man, a perfect smile, a perfect posture, a perfect… prince.

His hands flew to the sides of the heavy frame and he heaved, hurling it away from the wall where it clattered to the ground. "Perfect!" he shouted at the fallen figure, moving to the next portrait portraying himself, a year ago. He gripped and tore it from its place, throwing it behind him to the join the previous. He moved with a building speed, his gloves snagging on sharp edges of the frames, tearing with his efforts. It didn't matter if the pictures contained other people, his brothers, his pets, or his parents; he threw them all to the ground one after another, his hair falling in his eyes, his body heaving from the effort. "Perfect, perfect, perfect!" He groped against the wall for something else to throw, his vision blurred with hot tears, but after his storm of anger, the wall was bare. He gazed at the empty corner of the hall, so insignificant in the grand scheme of the hundreds of other pictures still hanging so perfectly elsewhere in the palace. He turned, facing the remaining eyes of his brothers, his parents, and other royal figures, staring at him unseeing, and backed away from them until he hit the wall with a gentle thump.

His breath coming in short, shallow gasps, the tears spilling down his cheeks, he sank down to his feet, wrapping his arms around his knees. He let the silent sobs wrack his body until there were no more tears to cry.

**#**

He had no idea how long he remained in that crumpled, pathetic heap on the floor. Certainly it must have been late at night, as there was little light in the castle apart from obligatory lamps for the servant's use. He didn't realize he was heading for the kitchens until the smell of chocolate wafted into his nose. _I'm not hungry. _His stomach growled in protest, and the disagreement, coupled with the fact he had not eaten yet today was enough to encourage him to trudge in that food's direction.

His hunger turned into a vague sense of confusion as he smelled the cake coming not from the kitchen, but from the family dining room, although clearly it was far too late for any sort of supper. As he neared the room, he noted light coming from within it, and a soft chorus of murmured voices growing louder as he approached. He froze outside as he recognized the voices. His brothers were speaking. Part of him instantly warned him to walk to the kitchen, get something to eat, and go, but the greater part insisted he stay to learn what they were talking about, although a sinking feeling in his gut told him he already knew.

He took a deep breath, held the lower hinge of the door leading into the room to keep it silent, and cracked it just enough so he could get the smallest view of the inner action.

A fire crackled in the fireplace, and for all intents and purposes, it may as well have been a replica of the last night he'd spent here, as all the brothers were present, and each in his assigned seat, with a spare smattering of food donning the dining room table.

"I knew something was wrong from the moment he got back," Henning said in a quiet murmur, helping himself to what was likely his second or third piece of cake.

"I think we all did… but I _never_ thought he'd do something like this," remarked Helm, thoughtfully, hands folded in front of him.

"Stop looking like someone burned your wardrobe, Heins. I think it's ridiculous you're feeling sorry for him at all," scoffed Hugo, "he chose his path and now he's getting what he deserves."

Heins fiddled with the plate of cake in front of him, most of the food cut, but not eaten, pushed around to an almost unrecognizable pulp in front of him, his eyes downcast and sorrowful. "But he's our brother…"

Harald stood from his chair and paced towards the fireplace, eyes settled on it. "I say we should execute our own punishment against him. Would the town, or the king himself, really blame us? It would help the people take faith in their government to uphold right and wrong."

"What do you suggest?" Helm asked, eyebrows furrowed.

"I could whip him. I've only just procured the most marvelous cat of nine tails. Glass shards imbedded in the leather, guaranteed to cleave flesh with each stroke." Harken ventured, his hands at work polishing a dagger in hand, his grim smile reflected in the metal sheen.

"That is not an option," Helm snapped, glowering at his brother.

"Why not?" Dark green eyes turned towards him, pointing the tip of the knife at his figure. "Would you rather perform the honor?"

Horatio spoke, his drawl voice more emotive than usual. "The last man father placed you in charge of whipping died the next day."

"Exactly." Harken leaned back in his chair and placed his feet on the table, the clay on the bottom of his shoes glimmering red in the firelight. "That should tell you how much I need the practice."

"This is ridiculous!" Helm exclaimed, standing up to join Harald. "Father would be ashamed if he heard us discussing such things and I will not hear any more of it!"

"… we should help him."

All eyes turned to Heins as he pushed away the plate of unflattering cake. Harald sputtered, waving a hand in the air. "Have you gone mad? Hans tried to murder the Queen of Arendelle! We all know what he's capable of, how can you talk about wanting to help him? We may as well hand him a throne to corrupt, pat him on the back for a job well done and be done with it!"

Heins rocketed from his seat and slammed a fist down on the table, making at least half of the brothers jump involuntarily. "He's our brother, Harald! Our brother! And I, for one, love him! Have _you_ all forgotten what makes a prince? A prince forgets trespasses! He forgives! He sacrifices! He is compassionate!"

"Don't recite those time-old rhymes to me! God knows we spent half our childhoods reciting them back to the king whenever he asked like a bunch of trained parrots!" Gasps incited from a few of the brothers, and Harald glanced around the table to several looks of disapproval. He groaned and slumped down in his hair, sighing and shaking his head. "Fine! If you're all so _obsessed_ with the idea, what do you think we can do to help him?"

Heins paused, drawing his gaze to the table as he returned to his own seat. With no answer, Harald set to work cutting a slice of meat and bringing it to his lips.

"We could take a formal plea for pardon to father. From all of us, it must mean something," Heins said with a slow nod as if agreeing with himself.

"It won't make a difference," scoffed Harald between chews.

"It won't if we don't try," Heins volleyed, making eye contact with his older brother. Hans could feel the ice in the captain's gaze from his stakeout as coldly as if the glare were directed towards himself.

"Alright then, if you're so keen on following up on this idea, then here's what we'll do. We'll take it to a vote between us. The proposal up for vote is this: We take a plea for pardon before the king asking Hans to be restored to prince status and his consequences forgotten. We'll begin with my vote. I vote no." Harald's eyes snapped to Helm. "Brother?"

"Yes," said Helm, strong eyes reflecting the sheen of the fire. He turned. "Harken?"

"Obviously not." The tip of the dagger made its way between his teeth, where he dislodged a scrap of food. "I'd much rather be voting on the whipping."

"I vote yes," Heins spoke up, glancing around the table, his eyes swamped with a bewildered look as if he could not believe what he was hearing.

"I'm sorry about Hans. I really am. But I vote no. The damage done to our town and the relations between our trade companies is irrevocable… and the trade… is more important to our livelihoods." Henning trailed off, and slowly placed his fork down on his plate, pushing away the cake he had left, his eyes emptily resting on it.

Harald gestured to the king's financier, his gloating smile bright behind his eyes. "Horatio?"

Horatio met his brother's gaze, brought his fingers interlacing together, and rested them on the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes with a soft sigh. It was in this moment of inner thought he heard a gentle creak. His eyes snapped open and glanced to the right, where the door he'd closed himself upon starting their meeting was open, just enough for a crack. The flash of the fire caught the figure of someone behind the crack, a pair of green eyes so very familiar before they disappeared into the darkness beyond it. "… I vote yes."

"What?" gasped Harald, face aghast. "What do you mean you vote yes? Shouldn't you, above all other people, vote no? Or maybe you don't _understand_ what he's done to our kingdom! Our trade partners are shot to hell, our people are doubting the competency of their king, and without sufficient trade, we can't sustain this life!"

"I know very well of our financial situation, thank you, brother." Horatio lowered his hands calmly to the table. "And yes, it's true, trade partners are demanding less pay for our country's goods while our receiving stock is priced at more than we've ever paid before, but Hans is our brother. I cannot condemn our blood unfairly to a life of solitude… a life he's had his fair share of already. I share Heins' sentiments, and I have casted my vote honestly."

"This is preposterous! You're all absolutely insane!" Harald whirled to face Hugo, the only brother left to vote. "Tell me you've got sense, Hugo! Tell me you vote no! Or have you forgotten what Hans did? Have you forgotten what murder _means_?"

Hugo stared at his brother for several long minutes, turning his head towards Harken, who was fingering his dagger and avoiding his gaze, and then to his empty plate in front of him. He stared at his reflection for another few moments, lips tightly pressed together.

"Well, it's obvious Hugo can't express his disappointment sufficiently. We can chalk that up to a no, which means we do _not_ approach father! Meeting ad-"

"Yes."

"…what?" Harald blinked, posture stiff.

"…Yes. I vote yes."

Helm smiled, standing up from his chair, putting a hand on Harald's shoulder. "Well, I think that solves that. We take the proposal to father first thing in the morning."

"Don't touch me!" Harald threw his brother's arm off, a sneer forming on his lip. "I don't believe you! How can you vote yes? How? He's a murderer!"

"Let it go, Harald," said Helm steadily, turning to his other brothers. "There's no use in arguing now."

Harald leaned over the fire and turned back to face them, pointing a finger at them with his gloved hand, resting it last on Hugo. "If our kingdom falls… it will be due to all of you. Remember that."

Heins stood up, taking a deep breath and releasing it as he pointed to the captain across the way. "No, if our kingdom falls, it will be due to you, Harald!" He stormed to the doors and whirled around to face his brothers, shaking his head in a bout of disbelief. "And I pray such misfortunes as have befallen Hans never befall me, because I certainly can't depend on you to come to my aid!"

He turned his back, stepped out, slammed the door behind him…and came upon the quivering figure of his youngest brother, tears sliding down his cheeks in the dim lamplight.

"…H-hans..."

Heins stumbled back as his brother hugged him tightly, wrapping his arms around him as if he would disappear without the contact. Heins placed a hand on his brother's back, rubbed it for a moment, and shushed his youngest brother as he smuggled him back to his room so the two could talk in private.

#

"…so she told me the only frozen heart around was mine, I was thrown in the ship's hold and we set sail for home," Hans finished, sitting on his brother's bed next to him, his hand trembling as he brought the mug of hot chocolate to his lips.

Heins had listened to the sum-up story without a word to interrupt, and apart from facial changes of intrigue or surprise, had not reacted. It was entirely odd, because Heins, a man who demanded detail in his life, had never been so quiet during a story before now. He took a breath and stood. "So what are we going to do?"

"…I don't know," replied Hans, shoulders sinking.

"… have you tried writing the Queen a letter?"

Hans gave his brother a look. "I tried to _murder _her, Heins. I doubt I'll find a way to delicately say 'Sorry I attempted to kill you'."

Heins lifted both hands palm up, shrugging his shoulders. "So you're a bit of a fixer-upper! We all have a few flaws. The way to start is to apologize to her… if you at least show you're trying to right your wrongs, Father will have to listen to the possibility for pardon. The question is… how?"

Hans leveled his gaze on the clock above his door, watching the minutes tick by, the lifeboat hand slowly moving its steady circle of travel. _I am a prince. I'll show him I'm a prince. I'll show them all. But what will they say when they see I'm going back? What will Anna say? What will the people say? Murderer… villain… scum… no, no! I don't care! I don't care what they're saying! Let them say it! They'll see. _Hans set the mug of steaming liquid aside, getting up and going to his closet, where he dug out a simple satchel from among other pieces of elaborate luggage and began taking down a few simple articles of clothing from his closet.

"What are you doing?" Heins asked, watching his brother and stealing a sip of his discarded hot chocolate.

"I'm going back."

"Going back?"

Hans turned to see his brother donning a chocolate mustache above his lip and couldn't help but smile. "Back to Arendelle."

"Ooo!" Heins set the mug aside in a hurry, spilling a little over the edge and rushing to the door. "I'll get my stuff!"

"You're not coming with me, Heins." Hans crossed his arms to be firm, going to his drawer and packing the last of the essentials.

"I missed the opportunity to see Arendelle fashion once, I'm not missing it again. Besides, how do you think you're getting to Arendelle alone, hm? You going to take a rowboat? You'll need someone to help you sail."

Hans stared at his brother, staggered by his reason and yet irritated by the sense of it all. He would need someone, and Heins was an excellent choice. He sighed in resigned defeat. "Alright, fine, fine! You can come. Go get food, water, and whatever other necessities you can think of. Meet me by the docks in two hours."

"You've got it." Heins grinned and ducked out the door, but for the first time Hans could remember, the shut door left him with a feeling of hope, smothering the hurt churning in his gut. He took to finishing packing the satchel with clothing, sitting down at his desk to leave a note for his mother explaining where he'd gone. _A prince I am, and a prince I will be. A prince I am, and a prince I will be. _It took all the chanting of the mantra he could muster to keep from convincing himself he wasn't crazy.


	6. Swirling Storm Defied

**A/N: You are all too kind! ;-; It always moves me to read how much you like my work. Reviews seriously make my day, especially those of who you explain what you liked in particular. And it makes me equally happy to see there are some people who like Heins as much as I do! Those of you commenting on the out of place things such as clocks and gravesites and all are smart cookies. Maybe we'll want to remember those things for later… Arendelle, here we come!**

**-Chapter Five-**

**Swirling Storm Defied**

"Come on… come on…" Hans danced nervously from one foot to the other, his satchel slung around his back. The night sky had already begun to grow lighter, the blanket of darkness lifting to prepare the way for a new day. He dodged a duo of fishermen on their way to their boat by ducking behind a group of barrels, emerging from behind his cover to make sure his vessel of choice was still secure.

He hated not having command of a larger ship, one that would be able to carry more supplies and travel faster, but he knew he was already risking more than he dared by commandeering his father's smaller sailboat. It wasn't as if his father didn't have boats to spare, but Hans had been explicitly forbidden from leaving the Southern Isles, and he knew Helm, his brother in charge of naval forces, took his job very seriously, accounting for every vessel down to the dinghies. It wouldn't be long before he found the sailboat missing.

Hans would just have to settle with what he could control the easiest with two people, in this case, the underwhelming sailboat, a ship just large enough for a small compartment below deck where someone could fit supplies and a single person could sleep. The journey to Arendelle shouldn't take longer than two weeks at the most, so he'd just have to compromise the success of his mission with the loss of comfort. In any case, the sailboat made up for its lack of space with its easy sail control, and the wind was favorable today. It would be worth it. It would be worth it to be a prince again… to make his parents see him whole once more… and maybe in the process, feel whole himself.

He turned back to the stairways leading down to the docks, seeing no sign of his brother, groaning his frustration aloud, his foot tapping against the wood in double time. "Heins… what could possibly take you so long?"

"Sorry, sorry, I'm here!" Heins came careening around a corner, panting, his arms packed with luggage so high it covered his face entirely.

"I told you to only bring necessities! What's all this?" Hans hissed between his teeth, aware of the sounds of voices approaching, likely the type of people who made a living on the water like fishermen or traveling merchants.

"Just a few things I thought we needed," Heins managed as he turned sideways to see his brother. "Where's the ship?"

Hans pointed to the sailboat nestled between two larger vessels, already stocked with some water and things he'd "borrowed with intent to return in good time" from the dock supplies waiting to be loaded for the day. He dashed to his brother's side and took a few of the bags in his own arms. "Come on, give me some of that. We have to leave now, before someone sees."

"We're going to Arendelle in this?" Heins asked in a whisper, helping his brother finish loading the baggage below deck, the boat bobbing lower than usual with the added weight. "Sailing for two weeks?"

"Maybe less if we get whiff of a good autumn wind," Hans responded, rigging up the sail and freeing it from its rope confines.

"Do you know where you're going?"

"I took a map from Helm's chart stashes," replied Hans, tossing his brother a rope to tie down which he hoped would limit the questions. "You forget I've been there; I remember what I saw on the way." _Water, water, and more water. _"Here, start with the working and stop with the questions. I know what I'm doing." _… I hope._

Heins tightened the rope in the proper places with a steady hand practiced at making tight knots, glancing towards the distance to see the gates of the water inlet wide open for departing workers. It was rare the king of Arendelle would shut the large gates allowing passage of people to and from the Southern Isles mainland. For one thing, the majority of the Southern Isles business had to do with water travel, so shutting gates would be simply refusing business, but on the more important note, the gates were simply difficult to close quickly without extreme effort from several men. The wall surrounding the Southern Isles bay was not particularly tall, but it was tall enough to ensure no ship would be able to sail over it. Safety had always been a concern of the king, and so every vessel not of Southern Isles origin was thoroughly examined before allowed through the passageway. Heins only hoped the mark of his father, a purple and dark blue seal of an anchor, would be enough to let them pass without extended scrutiny, if any at all.

He tapped his brother on the shoulder, and Hans blinked. "Do the honors and christen the voyage," he gestured to the dock, all ties undone.

Hans approached the edge of the sailboat, gazing at it and shutting out the world around him for a short time. This was it. This was the moment everything changed. No more rules, no more standards to follow. He would make his own path, even if it meant defying his father's orders, taking chances with unseen consequences. He set the heel of his boot on the pier dock, took in the view of his family's castle, and pushed.

The boat sloshed away from the deck a few feet.

"And we're off!" Heins cheerfully exclaimed.

"Hey, what are you doing with the king's ship?" called a voice from the start of the docks, a man just coming to start his workday raising a hand to get their attention.

"Heins!" Hans snapped, glowering at his brother.

Heins bent his head low between his shoulders and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry."

"Help me!" Hans took hold of the rudder to help guide the sailboat, pointing. "Pull the ropes to get the billows taut; we need the sails full of the wind!"

"Right!" Heins was quick to obey, pulling on the rope and keeping his grip tight as the wind filled the spread fabric of the sail, setting their ship into sleek, unfettered movement.

"Who is that?"

"Was that the Prince Hans?"

"Get the Prince Helm, quick! Tell him a ship is being stolen!"

Hans grimaced and kept his gaze set behind him as the pier, previously deserted, began to buzz with activity like a drop of ice cream fallen in the middle of an ant hill. Ships were boarded and took chase; people awake early enough crowded the docks to get a better look. By the time anyone had prepared their vessel enough to truly take chase to the boat bandits, Hans had managed to get far enough away so his pursuers appeared as specks. He could still see well enough to spot his brothers crowding on the edge of the pier, Helm at the front judging by his trademark dark green suit colors.

"Hans! Hans, what do you think you're doing? Are you crazy?" His brother's voice was far-away, but loud enough to be heard as a shout, his hands cupping his mouth to help project his voice and then waving wildly in the air. "Come back!"

"No!" Hans shouted back, keeping his grip firm on the sail to let the wind dance among the fabric, the ship cutting through the waters smoothly as a knife through hot butter, "I'm going back, and you aren't going to stop me!"

"You can't leave… Isles! It's against… orders!" The words were beginning to break up as he neared the wall marking the Southern Isles mainland port, his brothers now indefinable figures apart from the vague colors he could make out of their clothing.

"I have to do this!" It was getting to the point where his brother's reply was no longer sensible between their distance, so he dropped his attempt to make himself heard. "I'm sorry… but I have to do this."

"I think we're in the clear!" Heins exclaimed, flashing Hans a grin of confidence before a sudden, low, resonating blast of a horn echoed through the air. "Uh oh…"

"That's the signal to close the port gates," Hans gasped, his eyes flashing to the hum of activity along the port walls, the men in charge of the gates hurrying to obey orders, their goal to get the gate lowered to sea level to stop any vessel from coming or going beyond the borders of the mainland. "No! He can't do this to me! He can't! We have to go faster!"

"How?" shouted Heins, pulling on the sails for all they were worth. "I'm not one with the wind and sky!"

Hans looked along the edges of the boat at the supplies he and his brother had gathered, and grabbed one of his bags containing sailing supplies, tossing it into the water with a splash. "Make it lighter! The lighter we are, the faster we'll go! We only need a _little-more-time!_" He snagged another bag, hefting it up to let it fall overboard when his brother unleashed a horrific gasp.

"Not that! Please not that!"

"Why?" Hans asked as his brother took hold of the opposite side of the bag, tugging it back. "What's so important? We have to get rid of weight!"

"But I-" The clip holding the bag closed came undone and it fell apart, revealing layer after layer of clothing which spilled onto the deck.

Hans just stared dumbly for a moment before turning accusatory eyes on his older brother. "Clothes?"

"I… um…I…"

Hans shifted his gaze to the multiple other pieces of luggage his brother had brought with him. "Wait, is there more?"

"I…"

"Heins!" Hans shouted, moving to undo the clasps and opening sack after bag after packed parcel of clothes. "I _told_ you to only bring _necessities!" _

"But they are necessary!" Heins gushed, grabbing one of them and holding it close to his chest as if to guard it from the possibility of being thrown overboard. "I don't know if the people of Arendelle have switched from fall colors to winter or how long we'll be there or who we'll meet! I have to be ready to dress accordingly! I limited it to seven parcels… I'm used to a minimum three day rotation of clothes…" he trailed off, as if realizing the more he spoke, the worse it sounded. He threw his hands into the air, scrabbling to reclaim his fallen property strewn on the deck. "I didn't mean for you to take the rowboat thing I said last night seriously! I thought we would have a bigger place to store everything! We're never going to make it out before the gates close!" He pointed to the descending grate in the distance, enough men devoted to the task that the process was steady.

"We have to try, Heins! Please!" Hans whirled and met his brother with desperation shining in his eyes."Please, help me!" He grabbed the armful of clothing his brother had been holding, still firmly clutched in his grip. "Please..."

Heins stared at his youngest brother for a few moments in reflection, as they sailed close enough to hear the jeers of the men working the gate. He took his property back with a swift pull, smiled, and threw it over the side. "Hand me another bag!"

"That's it!" Hans' face lit with hope as a dying fire with another log added to the pile. "It's working! Keep going!"

Heins tossed bag after bag overboard, and the ship seemed to gain a little more stamina with every splash. The luggage bobbed in the waters behind them, swishing from side to side in the current, and eventually they would hit the gate, long after the brothers were gone. The man in charge of the mainland port wall gaped at the quickly-approaching duo moving closer, and shouted orders to his men, even though he knew the prospects of catching them were quickly becoming a lost cause.

"Stop them! Lower the gate together!"

"We can't go any faster, sir!"

"They're going to get through!"

The men on the wall scattered from their posts to watch as the boat sailed through the opening, the tip of the mast just nicking the wall as it glided through the entryway into the open water.

"Bye!" Heins called, waving to them good-naturedly as if he were a child going on a trip to town. "Oh, when the clothes get to the gate, tell Helm that they're gentle wash, let them soak to get rid of the salt water, and-"

Hans put a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"And air dry!" he finished, still waving. "Thank you!"

"… thank _you_, Heins." Hans dropped his hand from his brother's shoulder. "It… it means a lot."

"No problem! I believe it was you who coined the phrase: it's what brothers do!" His ponytail flaring out behind him in the wind's bellows, Heins snatched one of two bags he had remaining and gave it a good-natured pat, looking behind him with a smirk of satisfaction. "I'm just happy we did it! Hah, tell _us_ we can't go to Arendelle, will you? Oh, Hans, it's all so exciting! It's been so long since I've been _anywhere_ outside of the Isles, and now for the first time in… in, well, forever, I can finally get the chance to see something new, and to help you apologize."

Nodding vaguely, Hans glanced back at the castle, his home, and watched it disappear into the distance, the figures on top of the wall turning into specks. It was funny to see how small everything seemed now, now that he was going back to see Anna, and more importantly, the Queen Elsa. He had no idea what he was going to say or whether it would perform some wonderful magic trick and poof him back into princely status at all. He turned away from home and set his gaze on the open sea before him.

_It won't change anything. _An inner voice whispered, so still and quiet, and yet capable of completely turning his world on head. It was a common practice for Hans to argue with himself, and usually he won, but this time, thinking back on the deeds he'd done and what awaited him in Arendelle, he was already floundering.

_It might._ He refuted the truth, cold as it may be.

_You tried to kill her. You tried to kill her sister. She won't see you. _

It was logical enough that it took him a minute to dredge up a reply. _I have to do something. It doesn't matter if I solve my personal problems… and It's not the first time I've dealt with the subject of death… I just want to make myself believe it. If I can prove to myself I can follow the creed, apologize and put Arendelle behind me forever… then maybe… maybe that will be enough for me. And maybe it will make everyone else believe, too. _

Like a terrible chime of a clock the argument rounded its head.

_It won't change anything. _

"Why look so glum?" Heins asked, snapping his brother out of his inner sanctum of thought. "We made it! I thought you would be happy…" His face softened, his green eyes gentle. "Are you worried about meeting the queen?"

"Maybe." Hans didn't look at his brother, still lost in his thoughts.

"Hans… I'll be right here with you. We can meet the queen together, you don't have to be afraid. Besides, I bet she's the nicest, gentlest, warmest person ever! She just might need a little help letting it show."

"You haven't seen what she can do." Memories of the ice fortress and his previous encounters with Elsa battling the Duke's men flashed before his eyes, making him shudder. "I doubt my appearance will make anyone in all of Arendelle happy."

"Come on, quit worrying!" Heins brushed his brother's shoulder playfully as he stowed their luggage below deck. "What could possibly go wrong?"

**#**

"This could go wrong! This could go very wrong!" Heins shrieked over the lashing of the rain, knotting the sails down before they could be torn from the mast in the storm's grasp. The sailboat lurched in a pitch of an unseen wave and he stumbled over himself, falling down to the deck.

Hans bent over his brother and heaved him back to his feet, the rain stinging his eyes, so thick it seemed impossible to tell whether it came from above or straight from the sea itself. He shielded his face with an arm, shouting over the dauntless pounding of the torrent. "Where did this storm come from?"

"It's one of the ones the Southern Seas are known for, the ones that leave no one standing! We have to get below deck!" Lightning flashed in the angry dark clouds brewing overhead, thunder cracking so loudly Heins clapped his hands over his ears in earnest.

"We can't both fit!" Hans yelled back, the sailboat lurching again among the tempest, the build of their vessel groaning against the sea's power. Both brothers fell again, a wave overcoming the side of the boat and slamming them down against the wood, where they teetered against the edge of the railing dangerously. One of Hein's legs dipped over the side and it took all of Hans' grip to help pull him back over, his gloves making the work slippery and practically impossible.

The ropes strained in the whipping of the wind, snapping free and lurching in the wind, freeing the mainsail from its fetters, where the billows made short work of it. The gusts tore into the fabrics with their invisible fangs, slashing them through and whipping the boom from side to side. Hans grabbed the rope waving wildly in the storm's grasp, gloves slipping on the rope, Heins stumbling over to his brother half-blind from the rain.

"It's a lost cause, Hans! Stop! You can't control it!"

"I have to try!" Hans grabbed the tips of his gloves in his teeth, wrenching them off and throwing them upwards into the dark mouth of the storm's fury, where they disappeared among the sky. He wrapped the rope partially around his wrist to form a greater grip, teeth bared in direct opposition to the storm's anger, his frustration coming full circle as he was lifted off his feet by the wind snapping the boom once more.

"Hans, stop!" His brother lunged and tackled him to the ground just as the wind's vengeance reared its head, snapping the mast in half with a horrendous howl. "There's no time! Get below deck!"

"No! You!" Hans shouted, heart racing, making out the vague shape of his brother standing above the hold door inbetween blinks, feet slipping on the slick deck as he made his way, half-crawling, to his figure. "Go, Heins! Go!"

"I won't let anything happen to-"

Hans struggled to his feet, flinging opening the hold door with a wild swing, the hull below swallowed in darkness. "There's no time to argue, Heins! Just go! Go now!"

Heins put an arm on his brother's shoulder, squeezed tightly, and suddenly hurled Hans down into the darkness of the hold, where he tumbled among the shadows, stumbling to regain his footing. His head shot back up to make out his brother's face between the flashes of lightning above, a sacrificial smile on it. "Why?" he screamed as he watched the sea seem to come alive, rising up over his brother and their sailboat, making it tilt back, cargo sliding past him.

Heins' voice could not be heard over the roar of the thunder, but Hans read his lips as he scrambled up to reach him. "It's what brothers do."

The hold door closed; there was a terrible slam as the world churned upside down, and his vision went black.

**#**

**A/N: … or not! Sorry, but I promise Arendelle ****_is_**** coming. (So many allusions in this chapter) Please consider leaving a review if you liked it? : ) **


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